


The Pathlighter

by TheGrinningKitten



Series: His Story [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Multiverses, Alternate Universe - Undertale Multiverse | UTMV (Undertale), Body Horror, Dubious Ethics, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Ink is trying his best, Star!Error, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrinningKitten/pseuds/TheGrinningKitten
Summary: A note from the translator:"His Story" is actually a series of stories in nature. However, originally, all of its stories were posted as one single fic, but due to AO3's capabilities, the translated stories are separated into actual fics under the same series.The preface by the author (which was originally a separate chapter) is now available onthe main page of the "His Story" series.Thank you for your attention and enjoy!
Relationships: Error & Ink
Series: His Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124066
Comments: 35
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Его история (История 1 - Фонарщик)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/751935) by Elena Troitskaya (Sariko).. 



> **A note from the translator:**
> 
> "His Story" is actually a series of stories in nature. However, originally, all of its stories were posted as one single fic, but due to AO3's capabilities, the translated stories are separated into actual fics under the same series.
> 
> The preface by the author (which was originally a separate chapter) is now available on [the main page of the "His Story" series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124066).
> 
> Thank you for your attention and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

The steady candlelight was just enough to not only ward off the darkness but also to let him see the uneven lines of the letter.

He kept rereading the letter again and again — and couldn’t believe it. His friends went behind his back just like that — and gifted him a life of regret without his consent.

He wasn’t able to save his world. His friends, knowing it was too late to do anything, sealed the portal behind him. They had hoped he’d accept it and move on with his life.

The flame spread to the sheet of paper, slowly eating away at it — erasing the words of remorse, hope, and supplication.

He was kneeling, broken and ready to give in to the darkness — only it didn’t want him anymore. And that’s when a stony chill overcame his body.

He gave up, like many before him and many after him.

The candles burned out, the last of their flames lighting up the stone statue one final time.

***

It must’ve started the day Blue finally got through to the glitchy heart. He simply offered his friendship and got an unexpected answer in response.

“If I agree to try being your friend, will you stop?”

“Yes, of course! I promise!”

And so, Error tried.

When Ink saw just whom Blue brought to their tea party, he very nearly choked on ink, and Dream instantly reached for his bow — but Error looked like he’d given up. He kept his hands shoved into his pockets, made no move to reach for his strings, and acted surprisingly nice. As in, he hadn’t brought up destroying the worlds once during the whole evening, which was completely out of the ordinary for him — as were his excessive thoughtfulness and much too frequent lagging.

The Star trio chatted about nothing in particular — and Error listened. They asked him questions — and he reluctantly answered them. He looked more and more despondent with each question asked — until finally, he got up and left.

Ink was ready to celebrate victory. Hell, he could kiss his dearest friend, who’d single-handedly managed to knock some sense into the destroyer of the worlds himself! “You’re brilliant! You did great! How did you even manage to pull it off?”

Blue didn’t know the answer to that, so he only shrugged in response. “Perhaps, he’s having a good day?”

“He had way too many negative emotions for it to be a good day,” Dream argued.

The keeper of positivity had been monitoring Error’s emotions throughout the tea party and was waiting for the other shoe to drop the whole time the glitch was around. He hadn’t been able to grasp why the destroyer hadn’t been attacking them despite all the dark feelings inside him, and only later did Dream recognize the dominant emotion inside the black skeleton’s mind.

Despair.

“Ah, stop it, Dream,” Ink said dismissively. “He’s sociophobic and haphephobic. Of course he wouldn’t feel good while sharing a table with his former enemies.”

“Are you sure about the ‘former’ part?” Dream tried to appeal to his friend’s common sense. “He only came over to have some tea with us. There was no word of a truce. There’s no guarantee he wouldn’t attack one of the worlds, say, tomorrow.”

Dream was right.

The next day Error attacked a nondescript world of the Fell branch of the universes.

Upset, Ink came to its defense and was surprised to see how lackadaisical the destroyer acted — as if he was taking care of a boring chore that no longer brought him any joy.

“What do you want, Ink?” His voice sounded dry, devoid of energy and excitement.

This left the guardian baffled for a moment, making him wonder just what had happened to the other. However, he took a habitual gulp of yellow and started the same old spiel both of them knew so well.

“The worlds are the Creators’ treasures. Please, don’t hurt them!”

And just like that, Error stopped. He lowered his hands, the blue strings fell down, and the world’s code stopped crumbling. Ink had been preparing for a fight — only to pause once he realized that the destroyer was staring at the roof of the cave and paying zero attention to his enemy.

“Why?” the guardian asked, surprised.

“I have no idea. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

That’s when Ink finally realized that Error was not alright. It’s not that the glitch was ever alright to begin with, but at the moment he didn’t seem like himself anymore. Gone were the familiar smile, the grand speeches, and the passion. All that was left was a lost expression — a confused gaze searching for something among the crystals that pretended to be stars.

“Wanna have some tea with us again? Blue will be happy to have you. As will I.”

Error’s bewildered stare turned towards his enemy, and he nodded. Like a lost child, he allowed his hand to be taken — and didn’t even pay any attention to the pain the resulting glitches brought. As if he didn’t care anymore.

Once again, they ended up sitting at a table together. Cheerful as ever, Blue was pouring everyone a cup of tea. Dream was tense but exuded positivity. Ink was wary and somewhat unnerved by Error’s condition. Error was… lost.

He once again left without finishing his tea.

“Okay, I don’t like this one bit.” Dream put his cup back onto the saucer abruptly.

“You don’t like Error drinking tea with us?” Ink tried to play dumb.

“No, I don’t like the fact that he’s drinking with us while teetering on the edge of depression.”

Blue gasped, wringing his hands. “You mean, he wasn’t feeling well? I didn’t even realize. I thought he simply calmed down and wants to be a good guy now.”

“No.” Dream shook his head. “Something got him deeply depressed, and now he’s just letting us play with him. As if he’s a doll, and we brought him here, gave him tea… saw him off.”

Ink fiddled with his paints, choosing which one to drink, and eventually settled on confusion. And he really _was_ confused by whatever was happening to his adversary. But what if the glitch’s current state held an opportunity? What if he finally quit his destructive ways, if they used this chance to make him see how futile his insane goals were?

“Ink. Whatever you’re thinking of, don’t!” Dream said sharply. He remained contemplative, frowning as he struggled to understand why Error was starting to remind him of Nightmare all of a sudden. His twin had the same look in his eyes before he ended up eating the black apples.

“But why? Do you really believe he can’t be changed?”

“I do believe that he can be pushed over the edge, and you wouldn’t like the outcome.”

Blue looked from one of his friends to the other and back — and finally said, “So what you’re saying is that Error is suffering, and he could use some help? Right? Then let’s invite him to hang out with us more. The Magnificent Sans will be his friend and support him in his aspiration to be good!”

Dream and Ink couldn’t hold back from smiling. Perhaps they really were overreacting, and the glitch simply needed someone to keep him company for a few days? Surely, he’d be back to normal soon enough.

Even though Ink was sad to pass up the opportunity to drag the glitch to their side, he had no intention of — as Dream put it — pushing Error over the edge. He couldn’t help but think back to Error’s look of utter bewilderment and the obedience he’d shown. It was abnormal, and Ink found himself both pleased and unnerved by it.

They hadn’t heard from the black skeleton for a few weeks.

_What’s going on with you, Error?_ Ink wondered.

He chose to look for answers inside the Anti-Void.

Dream was right: The black skeleton was sinking deeper and deeper into depression. He looked even more tired now than during their last meeting. A lot more lost and listless too. He was lying on the floor, staring up at his puppet collection. Each one of them signified an abrupt ending to another life.

“Are you okay?” This was a standard, dry and stupid question, and Error didn’t even bother answering to it. He didn’t even turn his head to face his visitor.

“What do you want, rainbow bastard?” His voice was quiet, tired, colourless.

“Well, I figured I’d come see how you were doing.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

Ink came closer, sat beside the glitch and smiled. “Well, I’m here, sitting next to you and looking at your collection. I’m impressed.”

“Me too,” was the dull answer he got.

And that was it. The conversation stalled. As stupid as it was, Ink had absolutely no idea what else to talk about. What was he supposed to say? Remind Error that all of these puppets were actual lives he’d destroyed? This kind of conversation would turn sour in a heartbeat, and it wouldn’t benefit their relationship in the slightest. It wouldn’t make Error feel better either.

The two of them were too different, and even their points of view were complete opposites. Ink’s treasure was Error’s trash. Where one saw a world, the other saw a piece of broken code.

And so, Ink had no idea what to talk to Error about.

It’s Blue who could always find a safe conversation subject. He could talk about food or movies or his friends. He could even talk about AUs without making the destroyer cringe!

“I suck at conversation, I know,” Ink took a sip of cyan and his expression turned sad, “but I really _do_ want to become your friend.”

Error threw a tense glance at Ink then buried his face in his hands. “You idiot. We can never be friends. You’re the guardian. I’m the destroyer. Don’t you get it?”

“So stop being a destroyer!” Ink said, as if suggesting Error gave up on something trivial and not his whole life’s purpose.

Error didn’t consider his job trivial though, so he met this question with one of his own, “And could _you_ stop being a guardian? Could you leave the worlds without protection, and the Creators — without support?”

“You’re comparing the incomparable.” Ink crossed his arms.

“You selfish rainbow bastard!” Error turned away from the artist. “I don’t need your lopsided friendship. You’re not even _trying_ to understand me.”

Blue strings curled around the guardian and threw him through a newly-created glitchy portal.

The Anti-Void remained locked tight for a few days, and no one saw Error for a while again.

He showed up out of the blue again, doing what he was best known for — that is, destroying the worlds.

“What has CoffeeTale ever done to you?”

“I prefer cocoa,” Error replied, not pausing what he was doing even for a moment. “If you wish to protect this world, all you need to do is just hit me hard enough.”

Ink intended to do just that, only it seemed wrong to strike the enemy in the back when he wasn’t even fighting back.

“Turn around and fight me!”

“I don’t want to.”

The guardian of the worlds actually choked then. He didn’t hit the other though. Instead, he wrapped the glitch in ink and dragged the weakly struggling bundle through a portal. Disregarding Dream’s warning, he took Error to the Doodle Sphere.

“Look! All of these are Alternate Universes! There are thousands of them — maybe even millions. And every day more and more of them appear.” Error was shaken in every sense of the word then, and Ink forced him to look to the side, where a new page — a new world — was forming. “Their numbers grow with each passing day.

“And that, Error, is why I keep telling you that your goal is meaningless. It’s unachievable! Even if you tried destroying the universes without ever stopping to eat or sleep, you won’t ever lessen their number! So drop it already! You don’t have a goal anymore.”

Error’s eyes went glassy. He saw only the unending torrent of worlds he’d never be able to handle. Ink was right. If he had no chance of ever succeeding, then there was no meaning to his existence. He had no purpose anymore.

The body inside the inky bindings went limp: Error slipped into a lengthy reboot.

While he was out, Ink took the glitch to his place and prepared some cocoa and chocolate for his guest. He couldn’t shake off a foreboding feeling — but he forced himself to focus on the positives instead. After all, there was now a real possibility that Error would stop destroying.

Once the black skeleton finished rebooting, he remained lying where Ink had left him. The artist had to practically drag him to the table.

“You’ve mentioned that you like cocoa.”

Error stared at the mug full of chocolatey drink and the bark of dark chocolate like a death row inmate would on their last meal. He still looked distant, grimly accepting the inevitable end, even as he ate and drank what he was given, barely tasting anything. Then he got up, gave Ink an empty look and left.

If only Ink had known he was seeing the other for the last time... If only he understood Error a little bit better, he wouldn’t have allowed the glitch to leave. He would’ve stopped him, showered him with reassurances, promised him a bunch of nonsense. But most importantly, he would’ve apologized for the words he couldn’t grasp the true meaning of.

But Ink wasn’t aware of any of it, so the only thing he said was,

“Bye, Error.”

The next day Blue discovered something horrible in the Anti-Void and was quick to summon his friends.

There was a noose hanging from the ceiling, and a bunch of clothes lied underneath it. Error’s black jacket, shorts, red t-shirt, and slippers — all of them covered in gray dust.

The Stars stared at the scene — with terror, with disbelief or with tears in their eyes — and no one said a word. They had nothing to say — not to each other and not to the dead. Only Blue’s sobs disturbed the dead silence.

Since that day, Ink often wondered _why_. But in place of an answer, Error’s words always came to mind: “You selfish rainbow bastard! I don’t need your lopsided friendship. You’re not even _trying_ to understand me.”

It was the bitter truth. Ink rubbed his empty chest. He only wanted Error to stop destroying. He wasn’t trying to understand him. He didn’t offer any alternative. He had nothing to offer to the glitch when he was alive, and now he had nothing to give to him when he was dead.

Had he actually tried?

No. He did not.

“I’m sorry, Error.”

Life soon returned to normal. He kept protecting the worlds, inspiring the Creators and fighting Nightmare and other baddies of the Multiverse. It’s just that the black skeleton wasn’t among them anymore. But gradually Ink stopped being so acutely aware of this loss, and sometimes he even forgot just who he expected to stumble upon in OuterTale or why he suddenly got a taste for spicy UnderFell chocolate and why he always felt like drinking cocoa in the morning.

Then one day, the Multiverse shuddered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: mentions of past suicide, elements of body horror, death of unnamed characters.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

At the time Ink, Blue and Dream were in a dysfunctional sort of universe, doing their best to kick Nightmare and his gang out of it.

And all at once everyone in the battlefield felt _something_ …

Nightmare was the first to abandon even the pretense of fighting and tilt his head up. Then he froze in place, not daring to look away anymore. Others followed the direction of his gaze and stopped in their tracks as well.

At first, none of them could grasp what exactly they were witnessing there. It looked like a splotch of glitches, similar to ones that used to follow Error around. However, this blot kept getting bigger, spreading out its glitchy tendrils in every direction as it grew in size and gained more and more solidity — as if it was devouring everything and everyone in its path.

“Retreat!” For the first time in a really long while Nightmare was _scared_ , and he hurried to get away from the world capable of filling him with fear.

Dream shared his brother’s sentiment. He too wished to get away from the glitching world as soon as possible. “Ink, we need to leave. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

“We do need to leave,” the guardian agreed and even opened up a portal, but made no move to get through it. He kept watching the glitches as they spread their tendrils towards the nearest town. There they went, reaching for the first of the inhabited buildings…

“We have to help the civilians!” Blue was staring in the town’s direction as well, and even though he was scared, he was ready to walk through the flames of hell — or through these weird glitches — just to keep the people of the world safe.

“Blue, wait!”

The skeleton tore off towards the town, forcing his friends to chase after him. They only caught up with him at the edge of the town — and only because Blue froze in terror, bawling his eyes out.

The anomaly looked even more frightening up close. The glitches struck the residents of the universe like a virus, turning them into horrifying chunks of flesh with messed code. The one Blue was staring at consisted of a bunch of twitching legs sticking out of a headless body, which oozed with strings of ones and zeros. The stream of data gradually slowed down, until finally, the body twitched one last time and fell apart — not into dust, but into a new portion of bugs and errors — and these bugs and errors stretched their greedy tendrils towards the petrified guardians.

Ink was the first to snap to his senses, hastily opening a portal and pushing his friends through. Only once the portal closed behind them did the guardians feel relatively safe.

“What… What was that?” Dream was choking on fear, gasping for breath and fighting down nausea.

Ink didn’t bother fighting it, and ink splashed onto the floor, spreading into a black puddle.

Blue held his head in his hands, taking a mental break from reality as he struggled to grasp and accept what he’d just seen.

“I don’t know.” The guardian of the Alternate Universes took a gulp of fear and threw up again. “But that was awful. As if it was Error sending us greetings from the afterlife.”

Dream started and glared at his friend. “How can you joke at a moment like this?”

“I’m not joking.” Ink cleaned up the mess he’d made and clarified, “The glitches, the ability to pull entire worlds into pieces of code — those were his powers. Though I’ve never seen him mix the codes up like that. And I’ve never seen a world collapse quite like that either. So, before you ask, no, that’s not Error’s doing. He’s dead.”

“Do you think,” Blue piped up, “that there is now a monster capable of such atrocities? That we’ll have to fight someone who’s capable of destroying worlds _like that_?”

Ink considered this possibility for a moment and shook his head. “No, I don’t think that there’s a new destroyer.”

“Then what in the stars’ name happened there?!” Dream was still shaking, unable to let go of the horrors he’d just witnessed.

“I’m not sure yet.” Ink was the calmest among the three of them. Soullessness had its perks. “I’ll need to go back to that world and—”

“NO!” his friends screamed in unison, about to physically hold him back. “Don’t you dare return there!”

But Ink had already opened a window to the universe in question and looked through. The haste with which he closed it made it clear that the world was beyond saving.

“It’s all covered in glitches.”

The guardians teleported to the Doodle Sphere and found the error-infested world among the pages. The paper’s appearance matched the world: it was completely distorted with glitches. What scared the guardians way more, however, was the similar glitches appearing on other universes. On some pages there was only a tiny blot of them present, but others were already covered with big blotches.

“What’s going on?”

They weren’t the only ones who ended up seeking the answer. Nightmare surprised everyone by joining the attempts to figure out the mystery of the infection that was taking over the Multiverse. Other unsavory characters followed suit, and soon they were joined by all of the travellers and observers in the Multiverse. It was one of the observers who was able to figure out some of the aspects of this plague.

“Here’s what I can tell you.” Sci displayed an image on a big screen, showing a confusing diagram to the congregation. “The peripheral worlds were the first ones to get infected. And this infection seems very similar to bad blocks on a hard drive. At first an error occurs in one block and then the destruction spreads to the neighbouring ones. So far the only thing we were able to come up with is isolating the infected worlds from the rest.”

“Not just that.” Ink looked at his vial of solvent sorrowfully. “We also tried erasing those worlds.”

That was something the guardians came up with out of sheer desperation and desire to mercifully put an end to the suffering of the poor infected AU’s inhabitants. And — lo and behold! — it worked!

Well, sort of.

Soon enough the infection showed itself in other worlds. The newest of the worlds were the ones affected the most: each and every one of them were born bugged. Sometimes Ink had to spend his entire day erasing the newborn universes with solvent and begging the Creators to tone down on creation.

“Well, about that… I do have a theory.” Sci straightened his glasses and voiced what many of them were already thinking. “It’s quite possible that Error was right all along. The size of our Multiverse really is limited — and we’ve run out of space.”

Sci went on to make a comparison to a computer’s hard drive — those too started to glitch when they ran out of space. He was trying to comfort the guardians, who were completely blindsided by this stab in the back from the Multiverse itself. After all, they dedicated their entire lives to saving as many worlds as possible, and now…

It’s with a steady hand that Ink poured the solvent onto yet another error-infested world, wondering, _Hey, what did Error feel when destroying the worlds? Did he enjoy it, or did he feel just as empty inside as I do now? Or maybe, it pained him in a completely different way? Wish I could ask him._

Blue and Dream searched the Doodle Sphere top to bottom, seeking out crumbling, dead, uninhabited or dying worlds. They were glum as they took the located pages to Ink and watched the solvent devour them.

At first, these strict measures produced good results. The glitches stopped appearing. For a couple of decades the Multiverse lived in peace. Ink decided to keep the number of the universes under control. He no longer allowed new ones to appear and calmly got rid of the ones that had exhausted their potential.

What did he feel now that he was doing a destroyer’s job? Well, what could a soulless creature _even feel_ after staying off their paints for a few long years?

His friends did their best to keep their questions and condolences to themselves. They weren’t doing much better, really, considering they had to watch all of this unfold and take part in it. They only prayed that their home worlds would avoid the fate of being dissolved — and mentally prepared for such an outcome anyway.

Ink was doing everything within his power to maintain the number of the worlds low and their quality high — and yet one day, the glitches made a reappearance.

“WHY?!” he screamed. “Is everything I’m doing not enough?!”

For the first time in years, he took a gulp of blue and wept like a little child, bereft of everything they cared about. Then he lied down on the floor, exhausted.

“What else can I do? _What?_ ”

Sci looked into the issue and offered a hypothesis, “We know neither how Error’s destruction worked exactly, nor what changes it made to the worlds. But perhaps, he somehow influenced the code of the worlds he destroyed?”

“Have you tried examining his strings?” Ink brought a lot of them from the Anti-Void at some point.

“Yes. I studied his puppets as well.” Sci rubbed his eyes wearily. “But I can’t figure out what he did and how. Sorry, Ink, but that’s not within my power.”

Upon receiving these news and finally admitting that their Multiverse was doomed to die, Ink felt almost completely hopeless. He holed up in the Anti-Void and settled in a blue hammock for a while, sharing the space with a bunch of puppets of long-dead characters. He ended up watching the Alternate Universes through a bunch of windows.

He found one of the stories engaging.

Inside that AU the human killed Papyrus, but the skeleton’s dying words reached the child’s mind, and they aborted the Genocide. They crossed the rest of the Underground without killing anyone else. Sans reluctantly forced himself not to judge them, even though the pain of losing his brother burned him from the inside.

Time passed, and Sans couldn’t bear the pain of this loss any longer. That’s when he did something desperate — something insane. He fixed up the machine and kidnapped a Papyrus from another Alternate Universe.

Ink frowned but kept watching the relationship between the kidnapper and the kidnappee evolve, as he struggled to catch the insane idea slithering at the edge of his consciousness.

Finally, he jumped to his feet and barged into the Lab, shouting, “Sci! Say, if there are Alternate Universes, then there should be Alternate Multiverses as well, right?”

Awoken by the guardian’s scream, Sans had to take a moment to realize that, no, he hadn’t died yet, the glitches still hadn’t consumed him, and he still had the time to change something. He raised his head off the keyboard he had been sleeping on, and said, “In theory, yes. Why?”

Ink let out a deep sigh. He had an utterly insane idea to voice. “If so, there should be alternate versions of me and Error out there, right?”

“Yes. Why?” Sci had no idea where Ink was going with this so far.

“And we could possibly…” Ink took a deep breath. He knew there’d be no going back from what he was about to suggest, and their Multiverse wouldn’t be the only one affected. “Take their Error.”

Sci stared at Ink as if he’d gone insane, but slowly that expression turned into one of surprise, then interest.

“Steal another Error? From another world?”

The idea seemed brilliant and heinous at the same time.

“Yes.”

“So you’re willing to condemn another Multiverse to the Hell we’re living in now?”

This was exactly the thing Ink didn’t want to hear — the thing he didn’t want to think about — but someone had to bear the weight of this responsibility.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly and tacked on a sweet lie to try cheering himself up. “We can take Error from a Multiverse where no one appreciates him.”

“Just like we failed to do so in the day?”

Ink felt his non-existent soul clench as he stared at the floor. “Yes. Maybe, we’ll even find a Multiverse where he’s about to commit suicide — and stop him. Or maybe, we’ll find one where he hasn’t even considered that option yet — and invite him to ours.”

“And if he refuses?”

Ink had no desire to continue this conversation — and admit that he was ready to drag the glitch to their Multiverse kicking and screaming if necessary.

Sci cleaned his glasses and snorted. He knew how immoral Ink’s plan was, but he also knew what the outcome of refusing would be.

“Okay, Ink. I’ll look into this matter. And stars help us figure this out before our Multiverse dies.”

They had to sacrifice hundreds of worlds before Sci got the results he needed and built a machine capable of opening a pathway into a space outside the Multiverse. According to Sci’s programs, there was life on the other side. According to the scientist himself, there had to be an Alternative Multiverse there.

When Blue and Dream first found out about the plan, they tried to impress an understanding of the evils he was about to make them complicit to, on their friend. However, they gave in soon enough. The constant chaos of their Multiverse left them so weary that they were ready to give even such an immoral plan a try.

Nightmare and the gang had been keeping quiet since the beginning of the Multiversal problems. Once they realized that their lives hinged on Ink, they stopped attacking the worlds to avoid distracting the guardians from saving the Multiverse. They even ended up taking care of the other baddies — ones who weren’t capable of grasping what a terrifying death awaited them should the guardians be unable to find a solution.

Finally, the pathway was complete. Sci didn’t hurry to call it a success though. He was consumed by doubts.

“Listen, Ink. I’m not sure that the resulting pathway leads to an actual Multiverse. I’ve sent some drones though, and all that I’ve managed to find out is that there’s some sort of life on the other side. It’s possible it shares no similarities with ours, and it’s possible that there’s no Error there. It’s also entirely possible that life’s completely different in general — alien in its nature.”

“That would be sad,” Ink admitted then took a gulp of yellow and tacked on some words of encouragement. “But let’s hope for the best!”

“Yes, let’s. Otherwise I’ll have to chart another pathway — and I’ll have to do it blindly again, since we don’t know the coordinates of any other Multiverses.”

“When will you begin testing on live subjects though?”

“Tomorrow at noon.”

Sci instantly had problems with sending living matter into the newly discovered dimension. Lab rats mysteriously died in a couple of minutes. When he tried to send a dog through, it broke off the leash and ran off in an unknown direction, and the pigeon he’d sent returned with its wings turned to stone — the poor thing.

“What the hell is going on in there?”

To answer this question, it was decided to take the risk and visit the mysterious “out there” in person. By popular vote, it was decided that it would be Ink, who’d get to step into the unknown.

“Did you study the data from the drones well?” Sci kept nagging Ink with questions.

“Yes. I’ve already watched the recordings a hundred times over. But I haven’t found anything new. It’s all a grainy mess with a ton of noise. Besides, each video barely lasts four minutes.”

“Sorry, but that’s all we were able to find out.” Sci had been skipping on sleep and kept chugging coffee, hoping to get even a speck of new data. “Electricity gives out after about four minutes in there. But look,” he pointed at one of the sharper images, “here you can see a floor.”

“Maybe, it’s some kind of building?”

“That’s possible.”

“The place is all littered with rocks. And it’s very dark and creepy.” Ink shuddered. His belief in this plan kept waning. What could Error — even an alternate one — be doing in such a terrifying place? “Does anyone actually live there?”

“Yes.” The scientist pointed to a couple of images that showed something moving inside the darkness, then another, which seemed the most promising: a figure, holding a lantern in their hand. The image was taken from quite a distance, so it was impossible to tell who or what it was — but if it could use a lantern, it had to be sentient, right? “So. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

This was the moment of truth. An incredibly strange portal opened up before Ink. The pathway was long, crooked, narrowing in some places and widening in others as it seemed to swallow light itself.

Dream tied a rope around his friend. “Come back alive.”

“I promise.”

Blue simply hugged him.

Sci prepared to monitor the pathway’s stability.

Ink took a deep breath, exhaled and stepped into the abyss.

Do you believe in Hell? Ink did not. He had no soul, which could hypothetically end up in such an epic place, and he didn’t consider himself a bad person — not enough to even have a chance of receiving such a punishment in the afterlife. Besides, Reaper had never mentioned the existence of such a place.

So Ink had never believed in Hell…

...Until today, that is!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: horror in general, body horror, references to suicide (some in poor taste).
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

He was greeted by utter darkness and dead silence.

Even if you close your eyes, you’ll never end up in a perfect darkness: some shreds of light will still breach the cover of your eyelids.

The place Ink had ended up in, however, was shrouded in primordial darkness. And in silence. There wasn’t a single sound present: no wind, no rustling, no footsteps — nothing. And not a person in sight.

If Ink had emotions, he would’ve been quaking with fear. However, his soullessness protected him from the eerie aura of the place and allowed him to turn on his flashlight with a steady hand. The light cut through the darkness — and that’s what Ink found unnerving. He could swear that the light actually _cut_ through the darkness, as if it was a living being. He watched the flesh of the dark creature slowly back away from the scorching beam of the flashlight. And he could hear it crawl, swim through the space, whispering in a language he couldn’t understand, and the sound roared like thunder in the anomalous silence of this place.

“Is anyone there?” the guardian asked and turned the flashlight in another direction.

Once again, the creature rustled and backed away, burned by the light.

“Who’s there?”

He got no answer. The darkness seemed to back away even further, uncovering the things it had been hiding under its cloak.

Ink pointed the flashlight on the ground and saw exactly what the drones had already shown him. The floor was densely littered with rocks. They were gray and pointed on one side, while the other remained smooth. They seemed to bear resemblance to something, so he picked up one of the shards, turned it around to get a closer look at the smooth side and shuddered. A shard of an eye was staring back at him. It was a stone eye, so well-made that it was hard to tell it from the real deal.

Perhaps, this place used to have statues standing here, and someone shattered them?

He pointed the beam of light upwards, but it didn’t reveal anything similar to a ceiling.

The flashlight flickered. The three minutes of battery life he was promised were coming to an end. This meant Ink was about to run out of light, so he hurried to examine the space surrounding the portal. He walked around for a full minute but found nothing, except for the darkness that kept shying away from the light, and the rocks on the floor.

Wait. There was something on the ground there…

Ink stared at his own paintbrush in shock. No, he was sure he hadn’t lost his paintbrush: it was still firmly strapped behind his back. So this one wasn’t his. It couldn’t be his.

Ink forced down the nausea and leaned down to examine the discovery better. He pointed the flashlight on it and was surprised to discover that this paintbrush was old — very old — and battered. It was also covered in weird patterns that his own paintbrush lacked. Besides, his own paintbrush didn’t have a creepy stone hand clinging to its handle with enough force to nearly splinter the wood with its pointy fingers.

He didn’t want to look, but he had to.

The beam of his flashlight revealed the rest of the stone statue that was gripping the paintbrush.

It was Ink.

“Stars!”

Ink recoiled. His flashlight flickered once again. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the horrifying image the statue provided. He saw himself, standing on his knees, staring into nowhere, holding onto his paintbrush. He saw himself broken and desperate. He saw his own death.

Scattered around the petrified corpse were a few burnt out candles and a bunch of used matchsticks, along with a half-empty matchbox.

“That’s not me. That’s not me. That’s not me.”

“It’s you. It’s you. It’s you.”

Ink turned around. He could’ve sworn he’d heard the alien voice coming from behind him — and yet, there was no one there. No one, besides the darkness crawling away from him.

“Who’s there?”

“You. You. You.”

His flashlight went out. Shivers ran over his body in bunches. Ink slammed his palm into the flashlight, and it turned back on — and once again the beam of light cut through _something_ , and once again that something crawled away from the light.

There was no one around but the stone shards and the darkness — and the weird whispers that sounded so loud in the silence of this cursed place.

Ink looked back at the petrified image of himself. Driven by the sudden urge to have an extra source of light at hand, he grabbed the matches — and once again cut through the primordial darkness.

“What kind of a Multiverse is this?!” The guardian couldn’t stand the tension anymore — and he was responded by a sudden burst of laughter.

It was an eerie cacophony of voices. It had Blue laughing among them, and Dream, and Sci, and Nightmare, and Killer, and Dust, and Horror — and Ink could even make out Error’s glitchy laughter among them.

And Ink was laughing as well.

Once the artist realized it, he slapped a hand over his own mouth. “This isn’t real!”

“Are you sure about that?”

Once again he found himself searching for the whisperer with a flickering beam of light. It was dim, as if the batteries were almost dead.

“Damnit!” Ink replaced the batteries with as much haste as he was capable of.

When the flashlight turned back on, spitting out a new, brighter beam of light, he caught a glimpse of the darkness’s _face_. In it, thousands of faces came together as one, and it’s empty bottomless eyes were staring right at him.

“Aaah!” Ink recoiled only to realize that something was holding him by the leg. He flashed the light downwards and witnessed the darkness crawl away from his limb.

Ink didn’t have a soul. Why was he terrified then?

He threw up, and suddenly found his body growing weaker, as his head spun.

“You’re going to stay with us. You aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to be ours.”

His flashlight was flickering again, it’s beam slowly dimming. Ink’s legs gave out underneath him, and he fell to his knees — just like his petrified copy must’ve done long ago.

Would he turn to stone just like his alternate version did?

The dim beam of flashlight was barely keeping the darkness at bay at this point. The light flickered one last time and went out — and instantly thousands of hands descended upon the guardian, squeezing his body, as if they were trying to tear a piece out of him.

“Nooo!”

He pulled out the matches, took out his sketchbook and set it on fire. The impromptu torch flared up, and its light unveiled a terrifying creature with thousands of faces and limbs — an amalgamation. Not a regular one, but one seemingly woven from darkness itself. It was staring at him with millions of eyes and reaching towards him with billions of hands as it whispered, “Don’t struggle. With us you’ll never be alone. You’ll like it with us.”

“No. Go away. Leave!”

The sketchbook had already burned halfway.

“You’ll give up. Everyone gives up. And you will give up as well. You’ll either turn to stone or join us. But being a stone is boring. So come to us. You’ll like it with us.”

His impromptu torch was almost gone. Its flames licked at his fingers, but Ink didn’t dare flinch even when the pain had become unbearable.

Then the torch went out.

He still had matches.

Ink lit one up and curled in on himself, holding the tiny matchstick above his head. The light was tiny, but even that was enough to keep the darkness from snapping its chokehold of an embrace around him.

“What’s the point in fighting, Ink? What’s the point in suffering? Your Multiverse will disappear — but you can stay here.”

“No! I’m going to save my Multiverse! It’s going to live! I’ll keep fighting!”

Fire licked his fingers one last time, and the matchstick went out. Ink immediately lit up another one.

“It’s pointless. Everyone said that — and everyone gave up. You should give up too. Give up and come to us. You’ll like it with us. You won’t be alone. All of your friends are already here.”

And then, as if mocking him, the darkness presented him with misshapen copies of Dream and Blue. They waved their crooked arms invitingly, faces twisted with ugly smiles.

“We’re waiting for you. Come to us. It’s boring without you. Give up, Ink.”

The match burned his fingertips and went out. Another one lit up in its place.

“You’re not them! I won’t give up. I’ve come here to find Error.”

Hearing that, the darkness presented him with an ugly image of the destroyer. It too was waving its hands and inviting Ink to join it. Ink wasn’t looking though. He turned away and threw up again.

The match went out. He lit another one with shaking hands. It was getting hard to breathe.

“You’re tired. Lie down. Rest. You don’t have to fight anymore. You’ve done everything you could.”

“No! I’m not done yet! I’ll find Error, and our Multiverse will be saved!”

One more sharp burn —and he’s plunged into darkness again. He struggled with lighting up the next match — long enough that by the time it illuminated the space around him the darkness was nearly upon him. Now it once again slithered away, tucking its tail between its legs.

No longer able to keep standing on his knees, Ink fell to the side, barely breathing, yet he kept lighting up matches and scorching his fingers with a warrior’s tenacity.

Only now did he remember about the rope — about having the option of sending a signal for the others to pull him back into his own Multiverse. It’s just that he barely had the strength to pull the rope taught — and he was expected to yank it.

He lit up another match.

The last one.

“Error! Error! Error!!!” he kept calling into the darkness.

He felt light-headed, struggling to focus on anything besides holding up the last matchstick. He… he needed to yank the rope…

He thought the light had gotten brighter then, but he must’ve been imagining things, since his last source of light had almost burned out — and he didn’t have the strength to pull on the rope three times.

“No. I have to survive. I have to save my Multiverse. They’re counting on me! I have to!!!”

The brief scorching pain in the tips of his fingers signified his end. The tiny flame curved one last time and went out. Nothing could save him now.

The darkness curled around him, pulling him up, _draining_ _him_. Ink was using the last of his strength to shove it away from him, but it didn’t budge, wrapping itself around him, holding him close as its whispers grew louder.

“It’s for the best. Everything will be fine. You’ll like it with us. You won’t be alone.”

And then came a light.

Bright and piercing, it forced the darkness to scramble away like a terrified animal. Meanwhile, the light moved closer to the weakened, nearly lifeless body on the ground.

Ink managed to turn his head and saw Error bending over him. He had a light in his hands, and this light was helping Ink regain his strength.

“I’ve finally found you,” the guardian whispered and wrapped his unsteady hand around the black skeleton’s leg. He tried to yank on the rope…

It took a great effort just to regain consciousness. Ink couldn’t remember ever struggling so much just to wake up. It felt like he was recovering from a grave illness or an injury of some sort — like he was drugged, and his body broken.

But he was alive. He survived. The darkness hadn’t taken him, and he could also remember finding…

“Error!” Ink sat up on the bed and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his head and spread its scalding tendrils over his body. His whole body was littered with black bruises, fairly reminiscent of burns — only these marks were shaped like hands and paws. His right hand bore the brunt of it: it was almost entirely black, and it hurt exponentially worse than the rest of him.

Ink couldn’t focus on his own suffering though. He still had to make sure that he’d actually found Error in that horrifying place. That he’d pulled him out. That he hadn’t imagined it.

So he stood up and instantly howled in pain.

Blue came running, alerted by his scream, and hurried to push him back to bed. “You shouldn’t be up and about, silly! You barely survived! You’re very weak still.”

However, Ink brushed him off and stubbornly kept trying to get up, demanding answers. “Error? Was I able to pull him out? Did I do it?”

Blue got an odd look on his face, and color drained out of his voice. “Yes. You did pull him out,” — and he looked away, fear flashing in his eyes.

Ink didn’t like this one bit, so he demanded, “Take me to him.”

“No! You need to rest!” The younger guardian pushed the older one back into bed, his motions bearing a touch of roughness now. “You’ll have your chance to see him. For now it’s best if you don’t worry yourself too much.”

“Worry? What should I be worried about?”

But Ink received no answer. Blue hurried to slip out the door.

So the artist was forced to wait, until Sci showed up to change his IV. Just like Blue, the scientist was acting weird.

“Yes, we’ve succeeded,” he said in a somewhat odd voice. “It’s just that…” He hesitated before admitting, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What the hell’s wrong with him? Is he even worse off than ours was? Don’t tell me that you looked away for a second, and he offed himself behind your backs.”

Judging by the face Sci made, Ink was right to assume that, yes, while everyone was distracted, the glitch had managed to tie a noose to a ceiling light, climb onto a chair and jump.

“Show me!” Ink demanded.

Sci sighed and helped Ink up, then took him to an elevator, and they headed to a different floor. And once there, Ink was faced with a naked body of the black skeleton all covered in wires.

Error was lying on the bed — motionless, breathless and… soulless.

Before Ink could even ask about it, he noticed a cage on a nearby table — and inside a black heart, which gave off a bright light, inside it. He looked from the black body to the black heart and back in confusion and couldn’t seem to piece it all together inside his head.

Was Error dead? Then why hadn’t he dusted? He was alive then. But why was his soul outside his body? And why wasn’t he moving or breathing? Why, in stars’ name, was his soul shining bright enough to make Ink’s eyes water? And why was it inside a cage? And why was there _that awful hole_ in the black skeleton’s chest?

Ink waddled up to Error and stared at the other’s dead face, then at the ugly hole in his ribcage, then at his face again.

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know.” Sci looked exhausted.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“I mean exactly that. He doesn’t breathe. There are no processes happening inside his body. There’s no soul inside. According to all the facts I’ve listed, he’s dead. But he’s not turning to dust, and up to a certain moment he could actually walk. On top of that, his soul is alive, despite being outside his body. Though it’s shining very brightly, as if it’s expending magic — but there’s no magic reserve in this body either!” Sci held his head in his hands. “I have no idea how it’s still intact, how it lived, and why his soul’s outside his body and inside a cage! I have no idea what’s going on!”

Ink looked at the soul and thought back to what he saw before losing consciousness. The light of this soul scared off that dark creature, and then Error bent over him, and then… He couldn’t remember what happened then.

“He brought you through the portal,” the scientist said. “But once he stepped into our world, he froze up and hadn’t moved since.” All of a sudden, two dim eyelights lit up inside the body’s eye-sockets. Ink recoiled, and Sci corrected his last statement, “Well, almost. He’s kinda asleep at times, and sometimes he kinda isn’t. He just woke up. Only it makes no difference which state he’s in.”

The guardian faltered. He was so, _so_ tired of hearing bad news by now. His legs refused to obey him anymore, and his knees were about to buckle beneath him.

“You can lie down here. “Sci led him to the bed right next to Error’s. “I’ll get you another IV. Get some rest, and then you can tell us what happened to you back there. When we saw your scorched body, we almost lost our minds. You were barely alive.”

Ink too would’ve loved to know what had happened to him. At the moment the whole journey through the pathway seemed like a bad dream. The darkness, the amalgamation, the whispers, the dying flashlight, the matches…

Ink fell asleep. It would’ve made sense if his recent experiences visited his short-term oblivion as nightmares, but they didn’t. The light of the caged soul seemed to ward off fears and bad dreams the same way it did with the darkness.

Deep in his sleep, Ink didn’t see the black skeleton’s head slowly turn his way. A spark of interest flashed in those eyes but it was gone a moment later, and Error turned to stare at the ceiling once again.

No one knew whether the black skeleton could think or feel, whether he should be returned to that impenetrable darkness, why he’d helped Ink, who he was and why his soul existed separately from his body.

As for Error himself, he didn’t wonder about any of this anymore.

Error put out his eyelights, falling asleep once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

They now had to decide what to do with the kidnapped Error.

“Perhaps, it would be more logical to bring him back,” Sci suggested, and both Dream and Blue agreed with his judgement.

Ink was the only one to object. “No way! It’s awful there! I’ve already told you. There are creepy petrified monsters, that amalgamation made out of darkness and those voices… Stars, I saw my own corpse there! If Error hadn’t gotten to me in time, I would’ve died. Well, probably would’ve died. I think that amalgamation wanted to make me a part of it.” The artist shuddered, shrinking under the weight of his memories. His eyes were drawn to the ugly marks that creature’s touch left on him.

“All of those things were only awful from your point of view.” Sci rubbed his chin in thought. “But this Error lives there. And that thing was scared of him — or rather, it was scared of the light of his soul.” He frowned then. “It’s so strange. He made a lantern out of his own soul just to survive in that awful place. He must’ve torn it out himself as well. I wonder what happened there. The end of days akin to ours?”

“And that’s exactly why we shouldn’t bring him back!” Ink insisted. “Sci, I’m sure you can help him. His soul is alive, and his body is relatively okay. You could try… putting everything back in its place — and then, I’m sure, he’ll help us.”

The scientist snorted. “Fine, Ink. Let’s assume I’m capable of helping him. But think of the time, Ink! I can either work on returning the soul to Error or start setting up a pathway to a new place, so you can try your luck searching for a different destroyer in a different Multiverse.”

“Can’t you do both at the same time?” the guardian of the Alternate Universes asked. “I mean, you have multiple teams of scientists at your disposal. Let them earn their keep.”

“Yes, I do, and they _are_ earning it. But just think about it. If we start readjusting the pathway, we’ll lose the way to the dimension we’ve taken this Error from. Meaning, we won’t be able to bring him home anymore. You do realize that you’re setting him up to die, right? Should we fail to save our Multiverse, he’ll die with us.”

Ink froze. The very idea of becoming the cause of Error’s death — again — knocked him off balance.

“I need to think about it,” he said and left for the room the black skeleton was put into.

Error was covered with a blanket, his favorite foods awaited him on the bedside table, and there was even a window to Undernovela open. Everyone was waiting for him to show any signs of life — but there were none.

The cage housing the soul was hanging off the IV stand. The magic organ kept shining, just as bright and just as unknowable. Sci didn’t dare touch it or pull it out of its container, wary of possible consequences.

Ink took a closer look at the black soul. Wasn’t it funny? It was dark, and yet it was shining so brightly. However, the light wasn’t born in its depths, but was rather emitted from all around it like a halo. The soul pulsed lightly — like a heart still beating outside a chest. And its owner kept playing dead.

“Perhaps, you could help me make a decision?” Ink sat onto the edge of the bed and looked at Error, hoping he’d get a response. “Perhaps, you could tell me whether you want to go back home? Back to that dark place. I guess, once you’re there, you’ll look like you’re alive again. Because right now you look the way I do without my paints. Hell, even when I’m off my paints, I still look more alive than you do right now!”

Error’s eyelights grew a bit brighter as his soul dimmed. Ink didn’t know whether it was a good sign or not — only hoped this was the response he was looking for. One that meant that the black skeleton could hear him and, maybe, could even understand him.

“There used to be an Error living in our world as well. He looked just like you. The same streaks on his face, the same bone colour — and his soul was dark like yours. He used to be the destroyer of the worlds. And back then I didn’t realize just how important of a job he was doing. Nobody did. We didn’t appreciate him. So he killed himself. That’s sad. And it feels even worse knowing I could’ve prevented it — but I didn’t. And I regret it. But my regrets won’t ever bring him back. I can’t help him anymore.

“But I can help you. And that’s why I don’t want to bring you back to that dark and scary place. You know, our world could become your home. And this time I would treat you with more understanding. And I wouldn’t offer you ‘lopsided friendship’ — as our Error put it. I would really do my best to understand you and accept you as you are. Please, Error, if you can hear me, give me a sign.”

There was no sign, so Ink lied down onto a bed next to Error’s. He was still in great pain from his injuries. Sci assured him that the hand- and paw-prints would fade away over time, but Ink knew they were going to stay with him forever. They were branded into his bones like trophies, signifying the horrors he’d gone through. His scorched hand was far from healed as well, which forced Ink to rely on his left hand instead.

He looked at Error again. The black bones bore a multitude of marks as well — both hand-prints left by that terrifying amalgamation and regular scars. It was easy to see that he’d gone through many battles in the past.

“I wonder, that petrified Ink — was he your friend or your enemy? What kind of a relationship did you two have? Do you miss him?”

Again, no reply — but the soul visibly dimmed while the skeleton’s eyelights grew brighter.

“I’ll be waiting for your awakening, Error.”

Sci came to work — meaning he left the closet he was using as his bedroom — and immediately headed for the sick ward. His mind was set on putting Error through a dangerous experiment. He was going to put Error’s soul back in place. This had to either kill him or bring him back to consciousness.

Sci would’ve lied if he said, “I’m okay with either outcome.”

In reality, he wanted this to succeed. He wanted to see his patient come to his senses, not turn to dust. However, he knew the bitter truth: If Error died, then Ink would accept their first attempt as failure faster, and then they’d be able to focus their efforts on creating a pathway into a different Multiverse.

“Good morning, Ink. Sleep well?”

Sci received a weary look in response. Ink wasn’t able to fall asleep and spent the whole night talking to the black skeleton’s body as he attempted to get any reaction at all.

“Does it look like I did?”

“Yeah, I get it. Ink, I want to try returning Error’s soul into his body. I’m hoping that’ll wake him up.”

“What?” The guardian leaped to his feet. “Didn’t you say that you still didn’t know what that cage was and what was wrong with the soul?!”

“I still don’t,” the scientist admitted and added with a touch of sadness. “And I won’t know until I examine our guest more thoroughly. But Ink, you need to realize that unless I start somewhere, we won’t get anywhere.”

“But this could kill him!”

“Or it could bring him back to consciousness. Risk and reward, Ink. Either way, we don’t have time to waste. Agreed?”

Ink hesitated. Given their circumstances, any waste of time spelled certain doom. Their Multiverse didn’t have much time left, which meant that Ink didn’t have the right to prevent Sci from trying to save everyone — even if that would require them to kill another destroyer. He didn’t feel good about it though. His chest felt tight despite lacking a soul, and his eyelights went out. He thought of the Error he’d killed with his inaction, distant attitude and lack of understanding for the other’s pain.

“Can I be present during the procedure?”

“Sure.”

“And can I ask you to stop should this procedure put his life at risk?”

Sci hesitated but ultimately said, “Yes.”

They didn’t delay the procedure any further. Soon the operating room was packed full with alternatives dressed in white coats. All of them were determined to succeed.

“I feel like a necromancer.” A toothy Alphys put on a pair of gloves and bent over the black skeleton, who remained staring blindly at the ceiling.

“Then get ready to level up, darling. We’re going to need a top notch necromancer here,” joked the robot, who’d just descended from the ceiling.

“Quit joking like that. For a moment there I thought you were talking about LV.” Chara cringed, coming closer to the caged soul.

“I’d rather we stay optimistic.” Undyne helped Chara bring the cage closer to the body.

Sci looked at his team and said, “Let’s do this.”

Ink watched the procedure through the operating room window. Blue and Dream were staying with him. Both were tense and weary: They were the ones treating infected worlds to solvent while Ink recovered, and just like Ink, they wanted to believe the procedure would be a success. They were hoping that their careless days would soon return.

Who knew the destroyer’s lot was so heavy?

The three of them remained silent. Even Blue didn’t treat his friends to his positive smiles, instead watching tensely as the cage was moved to a table, its door was slowly opened, and the stunningly bright soul was brought out.

The moment the soul left the cage, the steel bars bent in what looked like agony and were sucked into the soul, as if they had always been a part of it. The light of the black heart no longer seemed blinding, growing dimmer and dimmer by the second.

The scientists rushed about, trading words of worry and hurrying to move the soul into the skeleton’s chest.

Ink clenched his fists. He didn’t dare look away, so he didn’t see Blue close his eyes and Dream bite his fingertip.

The soul easily slipped past the ribs through the hole in the chest and froze in its rightful place. Its light was a lot more modest now, but it was still too bright for a regular soul. No other changes occured.

The medics kept studying the charts and waiting for the machines to respond, but the body on top of the operating table remained indistinguishable from a corpse. Its eyelights grew a little bit brighter — and that’s that. No breathing or soulbeat manifested.

Error remained staring at the ceiling, still closer to the dead than the living.

“Thank you for your help, everyone,” Sci said, and the medics started to vacate the room.

The body was moved to a bed and wheeled back into the room it was kept in.

“Changes to his state might still occur, but we don’t know how long it would take,” Sci said as he was hooking Error up to various monitors.

“Let’s hope they do.” That’s all they could do now. Hope.

Ink couldn’t keep leaving his job to others any longer, so he returned to work, but he still visited Error every day — and with each passing day his hope was waning.

The black skeleton kept staring at the ceiling. He didn’t breathe, and his soul didn’t beat.

However, soon enough Sci felt that Ink’s hope was taking too long to flicker out, so he decided to move things along.

“Are you still hoping that Error would come alive?” He caught Ink when the artist was about to leave through the portal.

“Error is stubborn. He can do it.”

The scientist’s expression turned mournful then. “And what if I told you that he’s not Error?”

“What do you mean?” Ink asked, confused.

“Take a closer look, and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Perhaps, he wasn’t even a destroyer in his own world. If so, we’re wasting our time.”

Doubts forced Ink to pay attention to the facts he’d been ignoring before. For example, when he touched this Error, no glitches popped up around his body. He didn’t look glitchy in general, and his eyes… They were white, like the ones regular Sanses had.

Ink also carefully examined the black skeleton’s clothes, but he only noticed the differences once he brought the things left over from this Multiverse’s Error. The devil was in the details. For example, the seams were different, as was the length of the sleeves (the kidnapped Error was a little taller). This skeleton also wore sneakers, not slippers, and the shade of his clothes was a little different. Judging by the threads sticking out of the fabric, it used to have embroidery on it as well.

But none of this mattered.

Ink searched the pockets, but they were empty — and full of holes. He pushed his hand through one of them and found something under the jacket’s lining. It was a small handmade doll. The doll had star-shaped eyes, carried a recognizable giant paintbrush behind its back, and was dressed in a sky-coloured outfit. It looked very old and battered, its arms and legs were loose, and the buttons were barely holding on — but the jacket’s owner clearly cherished this toy and always carried it with him. It was dear to him.

Driven by a sudden urge, Ink took the toy to Error.

“It seems like it means a lot to you,” he said and put it into Error’s hand. “I’m sorry that I’m not your Ink and you’re not my Error. I don’t know how different you are from ours. But I’d be happy to find out. So wake up soon. We really need you.”

Error felt something familiar touch inside his hand. It clenched, but what he felt under his fingers wasn’t the familiar weight of the lantern and its metal handle. It was the long-forgotten sensation of a soft fabric. He forced himself to turn his head and saw the doll.

His eyelights lit up brightly, and a barely audible whisper broke the silence of the room.

“Ink…”

His other hand slid up to his chest, slipped into the hole inside it and touched his soul. His eyelights went out. Error spent a full minute making his decision. Finally, he pulled his hand away and looked around. He snorted and considered what he could feel of the surrounding world. Whatever he’d sensed, it surprised him somewhat — and here he thought nothing could surprise him anymore.

Error stood up way too easily for a person who’d just spent a month without moving. He was about to leave through the door, but remembered decorum and covered himself with a white bedsheet. After a cursory glance at his reflection in a mirror, he covered his head as well.

Sci came into the room to check on his patient and couldn’t believe his eyes at first. The bed was empty.

He sounded the alarm.

When the Star Sanses returned to the lab from their arduous and unpleasant job, they saw the whole lab in a frenzy.

“Error is missing!”

And just like that the team joined the madness. Ink didn’t know whether it was time for joy or panic, so he drank both and became the image of panicked happiness.

Error was alive! He was somewhere in the building — well, maybe not in the building anymore, but he was somewhere in their Multiverse. But, most importantly, he was alive! He was no longer a bedridden husk.

First thing first, Ink rushed to the Anti-Void — but it remained empty and abandoned. Then he checked the worlds the Error of their Multiverse used to frequent — but the new Error wasn’t there either. Perhaps, he hadn’t left the scientists’ world? Maybe he was even still in the lab? But where was he then?

Sci showed them surveillance footage and smirked as he pointed out a figure wrapped in white. Like a ghost, it wandered through the hallways, avoiding all the stuff. The figure either hid in alcoves in time to have the monsters walk past it — or turned into branching hallways. Then it disappeared before it could reach the elevators — and didn’t show up on any other camera.

“Portals, perhaps?” Dream suggested as he continued to examine the recordings.

“But the systems show that you’re the only ones to open portals in the building lately.”

“What if your systems can’t register his portals?” Ink took a sip of green. “Your systems couldn’t tell he’s alive after all — and he just stood up and left, barely bothering to take off the wires.”

Sci shrugged.

“Where can one disappear in this place?” Ink wondered out loud and couldn’t stop his thoughts turning towards the Core. “No… He couldn’t have…” And then he was struck with a more realistic idea. “Sci, has anyone checked the True La… I mean, the lowest floors?”

As it turned out, no, no one did. The amalgamates lived there, and they made a racket whenever they had visitors — and they had been quiet.

However, that only applied to normal visitors.

Everyone piled up into the elevator and nearly ended up fighting as they rushed to press the lowest floor button. They all fidgeted in place impatiently while the elevator was descending, and nearly broke down the doors when it arrived.

He was there. Still wrapped in a bedsheet, he was sitting on the floor by a wall and petting the dog amalgamate on its furry head. He didn’t pay any attention to the guests. The dog, on the other hand, rose all of its heads and came over to beg for treats. Sadly, neither the scientist, nor the guardians paid the dog any attention. They kept staring at what had to be a living monster, who responded to this behavior with a disgruntled gaze of his own.

“Err—” Ink was about to speak, but he was instantly interrupted.

“Why did you snatch me?”

The guardians shuddered. They knew the voice of their former enemy well — could tell it from thousands of other voices — and the voice they’d just heard didn’t sound at all like the deceased destroyer. It was calmer, not as low and almost melodious in spite of the scratches and repetitions.

“Error?” Ink was no longer sure this was the right name to use.

The black skeleton rewarded the artist with a disgruntled look and nodded. “That used to be my name. Before… everything…

“But you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you snatch me from Zero Infinity? Do you even realize that you’ve robbed hundreds of lost souls of their chance? There aren’t enough guides in this cluster already. That’s why there are so many rocks and so few people living in the Light. And you.” He stood up and pointed a finger at them, “Your selfish actions took away their chance to survive.

“So let’s hear your reasoning — and, lights above, it better be good, or I’ll turn your entire Multiverse into star dust!”

Ink sighed deeply, put up a fake smile and offered, “Yes, we’ll tell you everything — but, perhaps, we could do that over a cup of tea?”

Error put out his eyelights, grinding his teeth, then took a step towards the monsters.

“Coffee. I don’t like tea.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

So here they were, at the negotiation table. Resurrected Error, who, as it turned out, wasn’t too happy to return to being a creature with a soul and feelings. Ink, who kept discovering thousands of tiny differences between this Error and the deceased one. Dream, who was a little stumped by his inability to sense the outsider’s emotions. Blue, who exuded positivity and kept happily telling Error how glad he was to get to know him again. Sci, who was still in shock and staring at Error as if the other was a zombie taught to act like a living being.

“He’s still not breathing, and I can’t hear his soulbeat,” he whispered to Ink.

“And I can still hear you discussing me in my presence,” the zombie growled at him.

“I’m sorry,” Sci squeaked. “But I still don’t understand how is it that you’re alive even though you’re not breathing, and why—”

“I got it already! And as for me, I don’t understand why skeletons would even need to breathe, since they don’t have lungs. Although…” He thought for a moment but ultimately shrugged it off. “This was normal for my own Multiverse. As was having souls that do not beat like human hearts do. And why do all of you look so surprised?” Error couldn’t take the shocked stares anymore. “There are trillions of Multiverses in quadrillions of clusters. There are far more surprising things to be found out there."

The scientist’s mind stuttered when he tried to imagine this volume of possibilities.

Dream couldn’t hold back from asking, “Excuse me, but is the fact that I can’t sense your emotions normal as well?”

Error gave him a dubious look and asked, “Are you Nightmare or Dream?”

“Dream, of course.” The golden-clad skeleton was baffled. He had no idea it was even possible to mix him up with his brother.

“Can’t sense them, you say? I guess that's normal,” the black skeleton said, uncertain, and took a sip of coffee. “Sure, you’ve forced my body to accept my soul again — but the connection hasn’t had the time to grow stable yet. Actually, colour me surprised. I’ve never heard of anyone going back to normal after accepting the fate of a pathlighter.”

“Excuse me.” Ink held up his hand like an eager student. “You’ve already mentioned guides and pathlighters, but we still have no idea who they are.”

Error’s eye twitched. He looked at the skeletons before him in shock. “Wait, let me get this straight.” He put his mug aside and said, “It’s hard not to know about the only ones capable to save your life. I’m getting the idea that you don’t quite understand just what kind of place you’ve chosen to visit.”

The friends shared a look, then fixed Error with a stare full of curiosity.

“Your Multiverse was very dark and eerie, but I didn’t think—”

Sci was interrupted by a burst of laughter. The black skeleton kept laughing till he cried and nearly fell out of the chair, and it took him a while to calm down.

“Amazing,” he forced out between the laughs. “You really think you’ve found a different Multiverse?” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “If you only knew how off the mark you are.”

“Pardon?” Sci asked, not quite following what the other was implying, and everyone else was just as confused.

“Tell you what.” Error finally calmed down. “Say, what lies between the universes?”

“The Void.” Ink was quick to name his abode.

“Good. Now tell me, what lies between the Multiverses?”

The skeletons shared a few shocked looks as they finally realized just where the pathway they’d created led.

Error kept talking. “We call that place Zero Infinity. Normally, it’s filled with primordial darkness. This darkness is a kind of a semi-sentient amalgamation with a passion for absorbing as many lost creatures as possible. Judging by your appearance,” Error nodded at the palm-shaped markings on Ink’s hands, “you’ve had a close encounter with it.”

Ink trembled. The memory alone inspired fear in him without the use of any paints. His eyelights vanished and only reappeared when Blue took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake.

“Yes. I saw it. And I can’t forget it,” he whispered softly.

Error snorted and went on, “Inside this darkness, there are habitable areas full of light. The fate of the pathlighters is to search for the ones lost in the darkness and lead them there. That’s where people who got thrown out of their Multiverses live. That usually happens after their Multiverse dies. I used to live there too.”

Ink instantly forgot all about his terrifying memories in favor of asking, “Wait, but that means that your Multiverse—”

“Yes. A very long time ago.” Pain surfaced in Error’s eyes, and he turned his attention back to his coffee, not saying a word until he finished the mug. No one dared to break the moment of silence for the long-lost home of the black skeleton. “But it’s okay. I’ve found my place in Zero Infinity.”

“By tearing your soul out? Isn’t that too high a price to pay?” Ink asked and instantly looked down at the table, embarrassed by his own words.

“The price can never be too high or too low. It’s always equal to your desires and wishes,” Error said, frowning.

Dream felt the tension grow and hurried to change the subject. “You’ve mentioned a ‘cluster’ multiple times now. What did you mean?”

“A cluster of Multiverses, of course.” Error was happy to talk about something other than his fate. “Normally, all the Multiverses in a single cluster share the same history of their creation and have the same core. They often also have the same rules for how living creatures function. For example, inside my cluster it was normal for skeletons not to breathe — and in yours it’s normal for their souls to beat like hearts.”

“You mean, not only do you come from a different Multiverse, you come from a different cluster?” Sci concluded. He barely managed to process all the information as it was being revealed, holding on to every grain of knowledge and forcing himself not to bury their guest in questions.

“Yes. I used to travel a lot before I became a pathlighter.” Error grew misty-eyed again and hurried to change the subject. His voice turned rougher. “Okay! Let’s get to the point. You still haven’t told me why you’ve snatched me. Why did you awaken me? And I wasn’t joking. I _will_ turn your Multiverse to stardust if I don’t like the answer.”

The skeletons shared a look, then Ink shrugged, saying, “Well, actually, that’s exactly why we kidnapped you.”

Error looked bewildered. “What?”

It was Error’s turn to listen to them. He wasn’t all that surprised by the news of his local version’s suicide. However, he _was_ impressed by Ink’s resolve to combine his duties as a guardian with the job of a world eraser.

“I see,” he said. “You’re right. Error’s role is ambiguous in most worlds. It often happens that the things you take for destruction are actually none other than adjustments. Your Error must’ve begun to realize the true nature of things and couldn’t live with that knowledge. After all, he always lived for very different ideals.”

“What do you mean?” Ink couldn’t grasp the difference between erasing worlds like he did and whatever it was that Error used to do.

“Imagine that this is one of the worlds.” Error held up a teaspoon. All of a sudden it started to crumble into dust, but instead of falling onto the table, the dust hovered above the colourful hand. “I’ve destroyed it. There’s no spoon anymore. However, this is what it’s made of — and it can be destroyed even further.” The dust turned into fragments of code. “This is the way it’s defined in the world. And now…” The code got covered in errors. Then the last of the spoon was gone.

“Is it erased?”

“No.” Error shook his head. “Even though you can’t see anything, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. In reality it’s code is simply blocked. In essence, yes, it’s erased — but it still exists and takes up space. It can be brought back,” the lines of code reappeared, then turned back into dust, “or its code can be rewritten into something else.” A fork appeared instead of a spoon. Then it crumbled into dust again, which then got covered in errors and vanished. “Essentially, even if you don’t see it, a part of it still exists.”

“Sorry, but we still don’t quite get it,” said Blue, who’d been staying quiet so far. “So what’s destruction and how is it different from erasure?”

Error sighed and explained, “When you erased the worlds using the solvent, you were erasing the code, leaving nothing behind for the world’s Creator or Their followers to work with. On top of that, as far as emptying the space goes, you only did the work halfway: the space still remembered that there used to be a world there, and the Void’s code wasn’t edited to reflect that it wasn’t there anymore.

“However, whenever Error destroyed the worlds — or, in other words, worked with their code — he influenced not only particular elements but also the Multiverse as a whole.” The black skeleton pondered for a moment, then asked, “Did your Error used to talk to the Creators?”

“Yes.” Ink nodded. “Though it looked more like he was losing it.”

“Hearing Them is far from fun.” Error snorted. “Of course, he was losing it.

“So he did talk to them, huh? Okay.” He pondered something again and drew some conclusions. “I see. I think I finally know what type of a Multiverse I’m in, but I’ll need to know a couple more things to confirm my theory. Tell me, how did your Error act?”

“As in?” Dream didn’t quite get what the other meant. “He attacked, wrecked everything, killed people…”

“How did he do that exactly? Actually, wait. Let me rephrase that. Did he attack big, complete worlds, where resets no longer occurred?”

The guardians gave it some thought and gasped. That’s right! Error rarely attacked big and complete worlds — and he never even showed his face in the worlds where resets were no longer a thing. For the most part, he targeted the various branches of the existing, stable worlds and miscellaneous novelties.

“I see. Another question then. Did he always finish the job? I mean, did he always ruin the world to its core?”

“No.” Ink shook his head thoughtfully. “He often limited it to destroying a location or two — and left it at that.”

“I see. But sometimes he persisted and kept trying to take down the entire world even when you showed up. Right?”

“Yes.”

Error pondered something for a long while. Then, with the ease he’d shown while turning the teaspoon to dust, he rematerialized it, stirred the fresh portion of coffee in his mug and took a sip. Then he said, “I wish we could contact Dollmaker or Annihilator. The former could talk your Error into resurrecting. The latter would skip the talking part and just pull him back into the world — and teach him the basics to boot.”

“Our Error can be brought back to life?” The guardians’ voices exuded hope, but it was smothered the moment they heard the reply.

“Have you been listening to me at all? I’m telling you, there’s no way to contact them. They’ve lived through millennia and they actively travel through clusters. Clusters! You’re probably not even capable of scouring your Void, so don’t even dream of travelling through something bigger.

“Besides, if your Error really wanted, he would’ve returned by now. And since that didn’t happen, then… he must’ve been really tired.”

Their Error wasn’t the only one who was really tired. The new one was as well. He rubbed at his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“I think you could use some sleep,” Sci suggested. “We can continue this conversion tomorrow.”

They dispersed in haste, as if scared that Error would demand he’d be returned “home”. Ink was about to offer the black skeleton the guest room in his house, but Dream slapped a hand over the artist’s mouth just in time and shook his head.

“Let’s leave him alone for now. We’re not the only ones who need the time to process everything. He’s tired too. And knowing your lack of restraint, you could set him against helping our world.”

Error really needed some peace and quiet. He didn’t feel comfortable in a world full of light, so he once again descended to the basement — to the amalgamates and the darkness. His soul habitually chased away the darkness and seemed to beckon the poor amalgamates to bask in its calming rays. It attracted them with its aura of peace and hope for a better future.

A smile found its way on Error’s face. He remembered why he’d become a pathlighter.

The smile vanished. Did he want to continue being one?

For the first time in a long while he saw a dream — or rather, it was a memory of the days that had long passed. A memory half-forgotten and blurry but _so warm_. He only remembered scraps of phrases, scenes, someone’s faces and touches.

Then he saw Ink. His Ink. He was standing at a cliff and staring at the clusters of worlds in front of him. He was different from the Ink Error would see upon his awakening — and not just because of the different outfit. No, this Ink had a different sort of look in his eyes and had always been surrounded by a strange aura.

Error stood a few steps away and simply stared at the figure of the long-dead skeleton. He got a good look of the stars on the other’s clothes and remembered that the same patterns decorated his own clothes at some point. Then he looked around, taking in the image of the world he’d never get to see again. This starlit cliff used to be his favorite place.

“Beautiful,” he said.

Ink turned around — a smile on his face and stars in his eyes. He nodded and suddenly voiced the words the destroyer had never heard him say, “I’ve always wanted you to learn to light the path for others, but I’ve never wished for your life to lose colours as a result.”

Error woke up. The doll in his hand was old and battered, and his clothes had long since shed the stars. He put the toy into his pocket and shoved away the amalgamates, who’d piled up on top of him while he was sleeping. He headed upstairs and near-instantly ran into Sci.

“Oh!” The scientist had a sort of guilty and unnerved look on his face, and he was quick to look away and scurry off, mumbling something about being in a rush.

Error headed into the room the scientist had come out of and discovered the machine — the one that created the pathway to Zero Infinity — completely decimated.

“What an idiot! I don’t belong to this Multiverse. Zero Infinity will get me back — with or without the machine.”

Gritting his teeth, he exited the room only to run into Blue. The tiny whirlwind of energy led him to the kitchen, chattering the entire way. There he hurried to treat Error to tacos with coffee. When asked, “Tacos and coffee?” Blue answered, “Tacos that have coffee in them.” Error only had to try one — and he instantly knew that he’d just discovered a particularly nasty way to make one’s death slow and painful.

When Dream and Ink showed up, they found the black skeleton pale beyond measure — and doing his best not to die then and there.

Blue was given a cookbook and put in timeout until he learned the entire thing. Dream made sandwiches, and Ink made coffee, surrounding the black skeleton with their care. Then they asked if he needed anything else.

Yes, he did! He needed gravestones for everyone in the room!

Error looked from one fake smile to another and wished the skeletons of his cluster could breathe, because he _really_ wanted to sigh right now. He could tell what was going on. They were doing everything in their power to make him stay in this Multiverse: Sci had already destroyed the pathway, and these idiots were trying to suck up to him.

Ugh. It felt as if they were trying to chain him down, wrap him up in a sticky web of commitments.

“Thanks for the meal. And now, let’s get to business. Come on, Ink. Where’s your Star Map, Palace of Creation, Sea of Isles, Land of Doors, Doodle Sphere… Which one do you have here?”

“The last one. We’ll take you there.”

The amateur poisoner and the sandwich-maker followed them through the portal. Error threw them a judgemental look — he only invited Ink after all — but let them stay. Who knew what was going on in this Multiverse? Maybe, it was best to travel in groups?

He could still remember the odd zombie-themed Multiverse, where the inhabitants tried to snack on him even though he had no flesh. Since that encounter, Error treated the Multiverses with a lot more caution, even when they seemed positive at first glance.

This time the caution wasn’t necessary. The Doodle Sphere was no different from similar spaces: it was a safe place, filled with codes that took the form of pages.

Error took in the abundance of the worlds, made some mental calculations and said, “I’ll help. But don’t get in my way, any of you.” Such was his condition.

Then he gave his hands a shake, and bright blue strings formed around his fingers. They swiftly filled all the available space, wrapping around every AU’s page. The strings then vanished, before the guardians even had the time to panic, and Error sat down cross-legged, and seemed to fall asleep. Lines of code danced inside his eyes.

This state of being was very reminiscent of a reboot — the ones the deceased Error used to suffer from — so the guardians let him be. They only started to get worried a day later, when there was no change in Error’s condition — but, again, they didn’t dare interfere. Who knew if this was the way it was supposed to be or not?

Finally, Error came to his senses again and got up.

“Yes, there’s a lot of work to do,” he said, when Ink, who’d been keeping watch this whole time, came bounding up to him.

“But you _will_ be able to—?”

“Of course, I will! Do you actually think this is the first Multiverse that needs help dealing with a shitstorm of trouble?”

Ink was blown away by this revelation. This meant that this Error had already helped Multiverses before — and hadn’t stayed in any of them. Which meant that once he was done helping them, he was going to leave. _He was going to leave them._

“But first,” Error yawned, “I need some sleep. Processing this amount of data is exhausting.”

Error was about to ask to be taken back to the lab, since he was still hesitant to open portals on his own, but all of a sudden Ink asked, “Wanna spend the night at my place?”

Error hesitated. On one hand, Ink wasn’t a threat to him, even if the artist tried to attack him: there was too big of an experience gap between them. On the other, Ink could continue trying to suck up to him, which wasn’t something Error wanted to witness. It was sickening to see the people, who looked like his friends, fall so low.

Ink’s face fell as he prepared for rejection. He was about to open a portal to the lab, when Error suddenly agreed. “I hope you have a comfy bed.”

Ink smiled awkwardly. He remembered the Error of his world rejecting bed as he preferred either hammocks or couches. What did he expect though? Did he really think that this Error would be similar to the other one?

“I can tell that your Error would’ve had a different answer,” the former pathlighter noted.

Ink didn’t have a better answer than an awkward smile. Then all of the sudden he confessed, “Back when you were still unconscious, I was hoping that you wouldn’t be too different from our Error. I kept talking to you, promising that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes this time — that I would be more attentive and kind. But the more I get to know you, the more I realize that the person I should’ve told this to… he’s gone.” A teardrop slid down the guardian’s face.

Error stared at his feet. “Just let it go. I’ve gone through something similar. I would see Inks from other worlds and try to find mine in them. It took some time for me to accept it — that I can’t bring them back. My friends are gone, and they’re not coming back. So even if my Multiverse suddenly resurrected, the Ink that would appear inside it wouldn’t be the one I’ve lost, because he wouldn’t be the one who’d walked our path with me in the past. His path would be different.”

The artist thought of the doll that Error kept carrying in his pocket, took note of the tone the other used when saying his name, and dared to ask, “Were you close?”

The question made colour dust Error’s cheeks. Then deep sadness replaced the embarrassment. He had no desire to answer, so he only waved him off: _none of your business._

Error was the first one to step through the portal. He gave the surroundings a once-over, smiled for reasons only known to him, and flopped onto the couch without bothering to ask for permission.

“Didn’t you want a bed?”

“It’s a long way away, so I’m staying here,” he said and instantly fell asleep — or rather, pretended he did to avoid any further attempts at conversation.

Ink covered his guest with a blanket and left his home to talk to Blue and Dream. The two were in Sci’s lab, busy doing something together with the scientist.

“Is he awake? Is he coming here?” They rushed about, hiding what they were working on and shoving blueprints out of sight.

“He’s at my place, sleeping.” The guardian tore a sheet of paper out of Dream’s hands and saw a blueprint of something that looked suspiciously like a collar. One sip of red — and he went off on his friends with, “Are you out of your fucking minds?!”

They seemed unperturbed, meeting his outburst with perfect level-headedness.

“We want to save our Multiverse — and we’re willing to go to great lengths to ensure its safety,” Sci said.

“We mean him no harm, but if he suddenly decides to leave, we won’t let him,” Blue added.

“This won’t do him any harm. But it’ll keep him from leaving our Multiverse. It’ll only limit his mobility, nothing else,” Dream concluded.

Ink growled. He didn’t agree with keeping Error contained by force — especially not one, who didn’t even belong here.

“Don’t even think about it! He agreed to help us, even though we invaded his life — so you’d better be grateful for what you got!”

“We _are_ grateful.” Sci straightened his glasses. “But we also realize how hard it would be to find another Error. We were just lucky to stumble upon this one — and we might never find a better option. Or are you saying you’d rather replace this loner with someone, who comes from a safe and flourishing world?”

Ink’s eyelights went through a myriad of shapes. “No. But I won’t let you torture this one either. He is going to help us — and if he decides to leave after he’s done, that’s his right.”

“His right? His right for what? To live the life of a soulless creature again? To never feel a thing and only exists instead of truly living?” Dream snapped, and it took him a moment to realize this would be an insult to his soulless friend. “I’m sorry, Ink.”

“Just drop your plans on forcing him into anything already. Otherwise I’ll have to come up with some plans of dealing with _you_ ,” he said and swung his paintbrush as a warning.

The threat worked. His friends backed away.

“Why are you protecting him all of the sudden?” Dream asked. “You never used to get along before.”

Ink fixed his friends with a confused look, then smirked, saying, “There’s no ‘before’. I met this guy the same day you did. And he has very little in common with our destroyer.

“Also, consider this.” The guardian’s smile turned eerie. “He survived in a place I wouldn’t have. He lived there — possibly for millenia or even longer. He’s already helped other Multiverses before, and I’m willing to bet he’d met threats scarier than our bunch of evil Sanses. Do you really think that all of our powers combined would be enough to hold him down and collar him? I suggest you think again before you make a dangerous enemy out of our ally.”

That said, Ink returned to his world.

Error was still lying on the couch, only without the jacket. The article of clothing was carelessly tossed to the floor, and was now lying next to the worn sneakers. The destroyer was definitely asleep now.

Ink picked up his clothes, taking them to his workshop. He didn’t feel like sleeping. What he _did_ feel like doing was ripping apart… his friends — his desperate friends, who’d sunk to the depths of depravity with their ideas. So Ink chose to distract himself, and he had the perfect option right at hand: fixing the clothes of his new… friend.

Yes, the guardian was hoping to befriend this version of Error.

He took a closer look at the jacket and realized that what he’d previously taken for a bunch of loose threads was actually the remainders of an embroidery. A more in-depth examination revealed — much to his surprise — that the jacket used to have stars stitched into its surface. He couldn’t tell what colour they used to be though. However, he figured that white and golden stars would stick out too much, but light blue ones, like the fur trim — or the remainders of such — would fit right in.

Ink had no idea how to embroider — or sew for that matter — but he could create an embroidery with his magic. He took a paintbrush, took some paints and clearly imagined the end result. Soon enough bright blue stars decorated the jacket, rich fur trim flared like blue fire, and the fabric of the item looked brand new. The sneakers too boasted fresh colours and materials — and they too got star patterns to complement the jacket.

Ink ended up satisfied with his work. He shook out the clothes, and the old Ink doll fell out of the jacket’s pocket. Ink considered fixing it up as well but stopped himself.

No. This doll was dear to Error the way it was. It couldn’t be replaced and shouldn’t be changed.

He put the tiny toy back into the pocket and brought the clothes back to the couch.

He finally felt capable of falling asleep.

“Goodnight, Error.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

Once again Error was asleep and dreaming of the times long past. Only this time the ever-present artisan wasn’t waiting for him at the edge of the abyss, and no matter how much the black skeleton searched, he couldn’t find Ink, even though the artist seemed to be the permanent fixture of this vision. He always stood there, watching over the worlds. Even back when their last day came — when they realized that they’d failed to fulfill their duties, when they realized _it was too late_ — he was standing there and watching the Multiverse die with deep sadness in his eyes.

And just like back then, he left Error alone now.

“Why is that out of everyone who lived, out of everyone who knew — out of the two of us — why is it that _I_ ended up in Zero Infinity? Why not both? Why not you?” the destroyer asked the nothingness.

No one answered. There was no one who could.

Even when he asked the residents of Zero Infinity — when he asked various Errors and Inks — no one could answer. Because no one knew the answers. They could only advise him to come to terms with his fate and live on — or rather, learn to live again.

And Error lived, learned to live and searched for these answers on his own. He searched for himself in others and in myriads of different things — searched for the path he was destined for.

“Did I become a pathlighter because I couldn’t find my path? Or was it because I decided as if it _was_ my path?”

Again, no answer.

He was holding the pitiful reminder of his futile searches in his hand. He gave this doll to Ink as a gift, back before their Multiverse started to collapse. Ink promised never to part with his tiny copy. The guardian must’ve kept that promise, since this toy ended up in Zero Infinity along with Error — because they were together in those last moments.

How ironic.

“Ink, you always could give me some good advice. Not a single one of your alternates is good at this — not like you are — and I could really use your bright mind right now.”

“You have your own. Put it to good use,” came the familiar voice from behind him. He turned around but didn’t see anyone.

“My head’s been empty for a while now. You know damn well that I’ve always found it easier to go with the flow.”

“But your path has always been littered with rapids and cliffs. You’ve never _liked_ going with this flow.”

Again, Error turned in the direction of the voice — and again, he saw no one.

“But even when I tried to fight the current, I was always thrown against those rocks and off the cliffs.”

“But you never gave up fighting, Error. That’s what I liked about you. Your devotion to your values and your passion for achieving them is what made me respect you.”

Error didn’t bother turning towards the sound anymore, and kept on conversing with the person he couldn’t see. “What good were all of my passions and all of my strength, if I wasn’t able to save our home?”

“ _We_ weren’t able. We lacked the strength, knowledge and time to do so.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. But, Error, perhaps it’s time to try again?”

“This isn’t my Multiverse.”

“But it could become yours.” He felt arms wrap around him in a warm, familiar embrace. “Give it a try, Error. Just give it a try. I believe in you. They need your light, my star.”

He woke up and hurried to wipe the wetness off his eye-sockets.

“You’re stars know how old, and yet you’re still getting all weepy, you wimp,” he scolded himself and got off the couch — and instantly heard:

“Good morning!”

Delightful smells of fresh coffee and pastries wafted in from the kitchen. Error was powerless to resist them, and soon he was sitting at the kitchen table and watching his host. Ink was so chipper and cheerful, as if his Multiverse wasn’t at the brink of total collapse.

“Help yourself.” The artist pushed the dish of steaming pastries towards his guest.

The close encounter with Blue’s attempts at tacos left Error wary, but he risked it and found himself enjoying the treat. “It’s delicious. Thanks.” He washed the sweet pastry down with bitter coffee, then brought the artist down to earth with, “But you shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. You should know that I won’t appreciate it.”

“You already did.” Ink was unperturbed by his guest’s bluntness. “Sometimes a simple ‘thanks’ is enough.”

Error snorted and took another pastry. He hadn’t eaten anything like this in a long while. “It has nothing on star pastries, but it _is_ pretty tasty.”

Ink opened his mouth and instantly snapped it shut. There were multiple times when this Error promised to turn their Multiverse into stardust; he had stars on his clothes — and now he also mentioned star bread. Ink was dying to ask about his guest’s home Multiverse, but he knew how painful this question would end up being, so he stopped himself from voicing it.

Luckily, Error seemed to read his thoughts. “In my home Multiverse we often ate star bread. We would bake it out of star flour. We had lots of things tied to astronomy and skyscapes in general. And our alternative to the Doodle Sphere looked like a cliff overlooking the planets that represented the universes. It was a gorgeous place.”

Now, reminded of his dream, he thought of the doll as well. He habitually reached for the pocket, found nothing in its place and remembered taking the jacket off before he fell asleep. So he returned to the living room to retrieve it and was surprised to discover a brand new jacket in place of his threadbare rag. No, this was still his jacket, but it had been carefully refurbished and even had its embroidery restored.

Warily, Error reached into the pocket and sighed in relief: the doll remained the same — just as ancient and barely holding on. Just like his life.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing full well that Ink was standing behind him and watching.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence fell over them for a moment, then Ink tried to continue the conversation. “So, essentially, you’re somewhat similar to Outer?”

Error considered it, thinking back on the skeleton bearing this name. “Are you talking about the son of the space station owner? Or perhaps, the one who lived on a planet, where dead monsters turned to dust, and once it reached a critical mass, the whole world would blow up?”

“Something like that. Though our OuterTale isn’t quite as brutal.”

Error considered the comparison again and shook his head. “No, we have absolutely nothing in common. And no, I wasn’t an Outer in the past — nor was I anyone else at all. In our Multiverse, Ink and I — and many other guardians — were born from stardust by the will of the Creators. So unlike some of my alternates, I have never had a backstory that made me who I am. I was born like this.”

“Born to destroy?”

“Born to nebulize things into dust. It took me quite a bit to accept that the dust I left behind was used to create new worlds. In essence, even if I dusted our whole Multiverse, it would’ve done nothing. I wouldn’t have reached the goal of turning everything into nothing. This came as a heavy blow for me, I suppose.”

A knot formed inside Ink’s nonexistent stomach. The same thing had happened to their Error — and he didn’t survive this blow.

“But you’ve managed to pull through?”

“Ink helped.”

The guardian felt a twinge of pain even without his paints, both because he hadn’t helped the Error of his own world, and because this new Error said his name with extraordinary tenderness — one that Ink had never been a recipient of and never would be.

“Did you two end up in Zero Infinity together?” Ink asked, eager to change the subject. He saw the black skeleton tense and hurried to wrap up this subject as well, “It’s just that I saw a petrified Ink in there. It’s beside him that we met. Sorry, I just assumed it was the Ink of your world.”

Error’s eyelights vanished. He looked tense, as if he was holding in an entire storm of emotions he had no desire to share. Then his eyelights reignited, shining with deep sadness, and he slouched. He considered this possibility. What if his Ink ended up in Zero Infinity? Would he have become a stone statue? Or would he have found the strength and… become something else? Either way, this simply wasn’t a part of his story.

“The chances of that statue and I knowing each other are minimal. That poor guy must be one of those who didn’t last long enough for a light to find him. Perhaps, he wasn’t waiting for it at all.

“Either way, the Ink from my Multiverse died together with my Multiverse. Me ending up in Zero Infinity is just a sad turn of events.”

“You sound as if you’re not happy about it.”

“I’m not.” Error finally straightened up and fixed the owner of the house with a look of poorly concealed resentment. “I wanted to disappear along with everyone else — along with my home. Instead I ended up alone, surrounded by darkness that kept calling out to me. And, by stars, I would’ve become a part of that creature, had it not been for a light in the distance. I rushed towards it, like a drowning man reaching for a boat — and to this day I have no idea what dictated that desire to live.”

“Is that why you became a light? A pathlighter, I mean. Because you wanted to help others?”

Error fell silent. Did he actually want to do so? It’s just that there came a moment when he ran out of will to live and couldn’t force himself to go on any longer. Once he knew that, he made the decision to become a pathlighter. Then he picked the most darkness-infested cluster and tore his soul out.

It’s just that this decision wasn’t dicated by a desire to be useful. He wanted to forget, stop searching for something he could never find, stop dreaming, stop weighing himself down with his memories of the past and vain hopes. He just wanted to not be in Zero Infinity.

And his wish came true, didn’t it? He wasn’t there anymore.

Though what’s the use? He’d visited other Multiverses before — but not a single one was able to become his home.

“What’s with all the questions?”

“I want to get to know you better. I want to become your friend.”

Error’s eyelights flared up. “Do you really think that I would want the lopsided friendship of a soulless creature?”

Ink shuddered. It felt like hearing the deceased Error say it once again: he too called the friendship Ink offered lopsided.

“No.” Ink shook his head. “I don’t want a lopsided friendship. I’ve already made this mistake once.”

“And what else do you call the way you and your friends continue sucking up to me? It would benefit you if I agreed to live here and help you — and you’re ready to go to great lengths to achieve it.”

Ink shrank. “I didn’t—”

Error had no desire to listen to any more excuses, so he interrupted the artist, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t quit trying to understand the Error of your Multiverse? You didn’t quit trying to get to know him better? You didn’t keep thinking he was insane even after he died? You didn’t only pay attention to _what_ he did and not _why_? Are you sorry? ‘You didn’t’ _what_?”

Ink sighed heavily and confessed, “It’s true. I did everything you’ve listed. I’ve always treated Error like a psychopath, who simply needed help, but when he asked for it, I didn’t understand — and I regret it so, _so_ much. When I finally had a revelation, it was already too late. He couldn’t be saved.

“But when I saw you in that darkness — when I saw your bright light — I knew that I had to hold on. I can’t let the past repeat itself. And I don’t want to live with the knowledge that, should you leave, you’ll once again stop being yourself and turn into nothing more than a light. No feelings, no wishes, no desires… Who would know better what it feels like, than a soulless creature like me? Being empty inside. Being useful — and nothing else — like some kind of object. I wouldn’t wish this fate on you.”

“Wow. So you’re gonna be choosing my fate for me now?”

“No, I’m only offering you an alternative.”

Error fixed Ink with a heavy look of a deeply miserable skeleton and promised, “Fine. Once I’m done helping your Multiverse, I’ll give your offer a serious consideration — _but!_ — only on one condition.”

“What condition is that?”

“No one will be forcing me towards making this decision — not any of your friends, enemies or supporters and not you. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ink held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Error shook it — and Ink once again was fascinated by the lack of the expected glitches. “I promise not to push Error to decide to stay in a world where he’d be respected, valued, cherished, treasured, fed…”

“INK! I’m warning you!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

They didn’t head to the Doodle Sphere first. To Ink’s utter astonishment, Error asked to be taken to the abode of the deceased.

There the black skeleton stared at the “decor” of the Anti-Void with eyes open wide in shock. His body language screamed, _I think I’m starting to realize why you considered your Error a psychopath._

“Your living space looked different, huh?” the guardian guessed.

“Absolutely, cardinally, diametrically different!” Error’s eyes bounced from one puppet to another.

“But you too have somewhat of a doll fetish, right?”

The black skeleton looked only a little embarrassed, and, to Ink’s surprise, he shook his head. “I admit, I used to make dolls — but for friends only. I’ve seen and known many Errors from other Multiverses, who collect dust, bodies, bones, souls and other souvenirs — but most of the time they simply sewed the likenesses of the people they had killed or intended to kill. However, this has to be the first time I see such an extensive collection. Damn, I bet even Arachnid doesn’t have as many cocoons!”

There were more than three thousand puppets hanging above them. A lot of them were duplicates, and some were lying on the floor, torn. And if all of these were “souvenirs”, then the local Error had done a colossal job. This sight had him stupefied — which reminded Ink of the deceased Error’s reboots, bringing a tiny sad smile to his face.

Error was quick to regain his bearings, and once he did, he summoned blue strings. They were surprisingly sharp and shone like diamonds. Soon the whole dimension was wrapped in them — then it fell apart, exposing the code.

“Okay. Now, stay away and don’t touch me no matter what. Don’t talk to me. Better yet, leave.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, first, I’m going to meet your Error — or rather, his residual code. And I’m going to request access to the Void. And no, you can’t talk to him or contact him in any way. Don’t even ask.”

“But maybe—”

“He couldn’t care less about your apologies.”

Disappointed, Ink stepped away to silently watch as Error closed his eyes and seemed to abruptly lose consciousness, falling to the floor.

Accessing the code of the Multiverse was the easiest part of the plan.

Code. Code. Error. Access denied.

Code. Code. Code. Code. Error. Access denied.

“Give me the access.”

“...”

Error. Error. Error. Access denied.

“Talk to me, or decline, or give me the access.”

“...who are… you?”

“I’m Error.”

“...”

“I want to help. I’ll dust the worlds for you.”

“It’s not possible to destroy all of them.”

“Yes.”

“Then why?”

The starry Error considered his answer for a moment. He knew a lot of his alternate selves, and he knew just how different one could be from another, so he had no idea what to use as an incentive in this case. In the end, he decided to be honest. “Ink asked me to.”

“...” The system didn’t respond for a while. Then he heard, “Access granted. … Error erased. Error Star added.”

The final lines of code caused an outrage.

“Stardust almighty! In this Multiverse even the dead are suck-ups! Did he really just erase himself from the system for good? And replace himself with me? And why did he call me Star? Is this a joke, or is it because of my clothes? Don’t tell me he had a chance to chat with my Ink. Are they in cahoots? Nothing would surprise me at this point!”

After he was done having an outburst and took some time to rummage through the core code of the Void, Error — newly dubbed Star — regained consciousness and returned the Anti-Void its usual appearance.

“Did it go well?” Ink asked, feeling uneasy.

“Your Error is a glitchy bastard!” Star proclaimed. He still needed to check his updated abilities. He was written into the code of the Multiverse, which meant this code had been edited. So he hurried to open a portal, and — oh no! — it took the shape of a black star with blue strings hanging off it like garlands. “I almost hate him.”

Dream, Blue and Sci were waiting for them in the Doodle Sphere. They were greatly surprised when a star-shaped portal popped up in front of them, then promptly did a poor imitation of a reboot, when a starry Error and oddly satisfied Ink came out of it.

“Ink, there are two more worlds glitching!” Blue was the first one to get over the shock, and he hurried to lead the guardian to the contaminated worlds.

Ink habitually reached for the solvent but jerked his hand away from the vial and turned to Error. “Take a look. Maybe you can do something about this?”

Curious, Error examined the glitchy page, then fearlessly opened a portal to the glitchy world and ordered, “Wait here!”

No one dared follow him. All of them knew what happened to those struck down by the glitches. So the guardians simply waited, staring from the portal to the world’s page and back.

And then, the glitches plaguing the paper started to vanish. In a few minutes there wasn’t a trace of them left.

“So, I see what the problem is,” Error said upon his return and walked to the other infected page. He once again opened a portal — and this time it only took him a couple of minutes to do the job. He was extremely surprised by the amazed expressions that met him when he returned. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves. In order to help your Multiverse, I’ll have to commit mass genocide of the worlds. Do you have an Omega Timeline?”

“Never heard of it,” Dream piped up. “What’s that?”

“Core Frisk’s world. If it doesn’t exist here, that would make things easier. Great. Now go and force all of your world travellers to their respective universes. And you,” he pointed at Blue, Dream and Sci, “will have to return to your own worlds as well.”

“Why?” Dream asked with a hint of suspicion.

“You won’t like it, but that’s what needs to be done.” Error held off on getting into details. “Come on, go and take care of your world travellers. The sooner you do this, the sooner I can get to saving you.”

This took a while.

Nightmare was extremely suspicious of some unknown Error and demanded to see the glitch. Then he spent a while rubbing his eyes and refusing to accept the reality of what saw.

“Why is he so starry?” Nightmare whispered to his brother.

“I was just as surprised as you are. I was hoping for a more average specimen, but they only had ones like him in the place Ink went to.”

“And why can’t I sense his emotions?” Nightmare was completely lost at this point.

“The same reason I don’t. We actually kinda dragged him out of the space between the Multiverses…”

“You dragged him out of _where_ now?”

“...and he didn’t have a soul. You know, apparently, back where he’s from, it’s all the rage to rip your soul out of your chest and carry it around in the cage.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sci shoved his soul back, and he came outta his coma. You know, he was furious with us for taking him from that scary dark place, where an insane amalgamation lives, consuming everyone who ends up there. Apparently, he liked it there.”

Nightmare assessed the level of sheer insanity and decided it would be wiser to submit to the demands.

The rest of the travellers were a lot easier to handle, and anyone who hadn’t gone to their home world peacefully was forced there with a hefty kick in the butt.

While the others were busy handling the travellers, Ink and Sci stayed by Error’s side. Ink kept an eye on Sci to ensure the other wouldn’t try to harm Error. Meanwhile the destroyer made the best of the downtime, drinking coffee and examining the worlds’ pages which he then neatly sorted into uneven stacks.

Sci kept trying to learn more about the makeup of Zero Infinity from him, but Error kept waving him off and even advised the scientist to visit that marvellous place himself. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t get eaten for five entire minutes.

“Is it really that hard to survive there?” Sci asked in disbelief. “Some people do, right?”

“The ones who survive are the ones lucky enough to meet a pathlighter in the first five minutes of their visit. That, or they happen to have enough light sourced on them to last until one comes. All the rest are either consumed by the amalgamation, or, should they give up, they turn to stone.” The starry Error finished his coffee and added, “But should a pathlighter bring you to the light, you get a chance to become a completely different creature.”

The empty mug turned to dust, and Error addressed the guardian, “You’re lucky you live in a cluster, where the worlds aren’t tightly bound to your soul, Ink, since I’ll have to nebulize all of these.” Error pointed at the biggest stack of the worlds. Then his finger moved to a smaller one. “I’ve got a trickier solution for this one, but you don’t need to know the details. Just trust me that it would benefit them. And this one,” he pointed to the smallest stack, “would be subject to pressing. And only then will I decide what to do with it.”

Ink stared bitterly at the worlds that were going to be destroyed. He’d been trying so hard to save them after all.

“I trust you,” he said and opened a portal for Sci. “It’s time for you to go, doc.”

Error cracked his knuckles, checked to make sure that everyone was in their respective worlds, and got ready to commit a mass genocide for the sake of peace and order.

“Are you coming with me? Or would you rather watch it from here?” he asked the oddly quiet Ink. He expected the other to refuse, but Ink took the offer.

“Of course, I’m coming. Burying my head in the sand is not my style.”

Error grinned and opened a portal into the first of the worlds in the stack. He immediately got started with his destructive activity.

Blue lustrous strings flowed from his fingers. They curled around his body, forming something akin to a sphere, then this “bubble” burst, and the strings flew off in every possible direction.

Thousands of strings slid through the space like knives, turning the world into a thinly chopped mess in a matter of seconds. Then the strings returned to the destroyer, and he clapped his hands, weaving them together. The next moment the world collapsed into pieces of code.

Error examined the floating scraps and, apparently, wasn’t satisfied with his work, since what came out of his mouth was, “Could be better. The abilities your Error had and the code of your Multiverse are completely different from my home. I’ll need some time to get used to it.” That said, he opened a portal to the next world on the list.

“Wait. You mean, you’re just going to leave the world in pieces?”

“Yes.” Error didn’t get what the fuss was all about.

“But I thought you wanted to destroy this world?”

Instead of giving a straight answer, Error smirked and asked, “What’s the essence of destruction?”

Ink didn’t understand the question. “Pardon?”

“What’s the essence of destruction?” Error asked again and clarified, “Why do I destroy the worlds at all?”

Now completely at a loss, Ink mumbled, “I thought we’ve established that the Multiverse has limited space, and that the destruction of the worlds is necessary in order to control their numbers?” He saw the other smirk and knew he wasn’t getting something. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes. You’re far off mark, Ink. But if I told you the answer, you’d just feel stupid. It’s best if you figure everything out yourself. Just keep watching.”

And Ink kept watching — through the bitterness and the pain — as the worlds he’d been keeping safe from ruin all these years crumbled. He saw his efforts turn to nothingness filled with scraps of code. And so it went, until the last of the worlds Error had sentenced to destruction were gone.

They returned to the Doodle Sphere then. Once there, Error _created_ a dozen of soft pillows and flopped onto them.

‘Wow, so you can… um… create?” Ink picked one up and wondered at its softness. He saw the glitter of a star embroidery on the pillow’s surface and smiled. “These are some lovely stars.”

“Well, I’m Star after all.” Error snorted and explained, “That’s what your destroyer — or rather, what remained of him in the system — called me.”

Ink’s smile turned sad. “Star, huh? I guess, I’ll keep calling you that then. You don’t mind, right?” He got unintelligible noncommittal muttering in response. “I have to agree with Error’s choice though. It suits you. You come from a starry Multiverse; your clothes are decorated with stars; and your portals are shaped like a star. It even feels as if you’ve brought a piece of your Multiverse to us.”

Star raised his head up from the pillows and snorted again. “The piece in question is me. Quit talking and pay attention to your Multiverse, guardian. The Creators should start stirring soon enough. I can already hear Them talking angrily — which means They’re going to start acting in three, two, one…”

Poof! One of the recently destroyed universes reappeared in its former spot.

Ink was instantly by its side, examining the page. It looked the same as before. He poked his head inside the world but didn’t notice any changes. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if the world had simply been reset.

One world was followed by others, and soon more than half of the destroyed AUs were back in their proper places — yet not a single one of them boasted any notable changes. They looked the same as before.

Intrigued, Ink paid a brief visit to every single one of them.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get it yet,” he said when he’d lost any hope of finding the answers.

“Can’t say I’m surprised: your head’s full of ink after all.” Star smiled and got up from his resting spot. He took the second stack of pages — the one that he, in his own words, had a trickier solution in store for. “Come on.”

This time they travelled through larger and more detailed worlds, and Star wasn’t quite as harsh with them. He only “wounded” them a bit: destroyed Waterfall in one, the Ruins in another, Snowdin in the third one — and so on.

Ink still struggled to figure out what the point of it all was.

When they were done and returned to the Doodle Sphere once more, the artist remained standing in front of the pages, as if expecting the answers to simply pop in out of nowhere. Well, that, or for the worlds to spell it out for him.

Only the last, smallest stack remained. After a break, Error opened a portal to the first world on the list and proposed, “It's best if you stay here this time. This is not going to be pretty.”

But Ink followed him through the portal anyway and ended up in Hell. This time Star did exactly what Error used to do: he was killing the residents, slowly destroying the world, its ways of life.

That is, until he abruptly turned to face the guardian. “Well, since you’re here, I’m offering you an opportunity to defend this world.”

“Why?” By now Ink had given up trying to find the answers and simply went with the flow — only to be blindsided again. Now he was pulled from the comfort of letting things happen, given a shake and forced to once again protect the worlds — from the person he’d asked to destroy them, no less!

“Trust me, that’s what needs to be done. You’ll get it later. So, do you want to protect this world from destruction or not?”

Ink considered the question — and drank from the red vial. “Yes!” His eyes glowed with determination.

“Then what are you waiting for?!” Strings glimmered in Star’s hands. “You have the right to your goals, and I have the right to mine. Here and now, we decide whether this world lives or dies!”

Ink armed himself with his trusted paintbrush — just in time to parry an unfamiliar attack.

Error used to always keep his distance and only fought head-on as a last resort. Star, however, was quick to close the distance between them and almost landed a punch. He smirked, taunting, “Keep up, inky brain!”

Ink saw the strings wrap around his paintbrush. Right! Star didn’t need to reach for his eyes to summon his strings: they appeared between his fingers.

“Inky brain here has an ace up his sleeve!” the artist shot back, and the paintbrush turned to ink, while Ink hurried to put some distance between them. Wary at first, he grew more confident as he attacked Star with bones and a blaster. Not a single attack hit its mark though. “Well, aren’t you nimble!”

Star easily evaded all of the attacks, and even found a moment to summon some bones of his own… and froze. “What the star?!”

The battle was put on hold as Star cursed, running in circles around a bunch of _golden_ bones with _star_ patterns on them. Ink was dying of laughter, having had too much yellow.

“It could’ve been worse,” he laughed.

“How?!” The hapless Error replacement — who most certainly didn’t deserve to have his code mangled like this — shook a golden bone in his hand. “It looks as if I stole it from Dream!”

“Well, for example, the bones attacks could’ve been replaced with magic wands or moon rabbit’s pudding…”

“Okay, okay. You can stop now. I get it. Though the moon rabbit was a good fellow, and I would buy a pudding from him one more time if I could.”

Star grew embarrassed then, as he once again ended up reminiscing the past — and hurried to get back into battle. After all, golden or not, these attacks were still a dangerous weapon.

The bones striked sparks of magic out of each other. The paintbrush bore inky lines into being. The blasters kept spitting out laser blasts. The strings quivered in attempts to ensnare.

Ink missed the moment the excitement of the fight he was feeling turned into joy. Oh, how he’d missed these scuffles with Error! He missed the banter and testing each other’s strength. The way they’d sit quietly in OuterTale. The rare peaceful encounters in UnderFell. His haphephobia. His furious glares and rude words…

He missed Error.

He felt an urge to take a sip of blue and cry. After all, he hadn’t had his chance to grieve yet — because he didn’t know what he’d lost until just now. And now he knew…

“Too slow!”

He got scorched by a laser, but the pain seemed fitting: it allowed him to let out the tear that was begging to be released — because it wasn’t Error before him now. The person Ink was fighting was his replacement — who suddenly had the gall to claim the few things Ink and Error used to share.

His fury was no longer fake.

“Getting better.” Star kept commenting on the guardian’s attacks. Some of them were close calls now. “You have to prove that this world has the right to exist. Show me all of your determination, guardian!”

And Ink did. He turned into ink, switched to close combat, shielded himself with a blaster, parried and fought with everything he had. He was angry at himself and at this new Error — because he couldn’t bring back the past and because of being blindsided by the sudden feeling of _loss_.

He wanted to beat… Star... and himself... and the overwhelming guilt.

Finally, the skeletons stopped and faced each other, exhausted. Golden bones and diamond-covered strings littered the battlefield.

“Was this proof enough?” Ink asked, panting.

Star inspected the half-destroyed world and nodded. “Yes. This world will live. Let’s hope the Creators think so too… You don’t seem happy?”

Ink took a sip of yellow and smiled. “I am happy. I just haven’t had the time to switch colours.”

Star fixed him with a look of someone wise with experience, and asked, “It hurts, huh? I’m not talking about the wounds, by the way.”

The smile abandoned the guardian’s face. “It hurts,” he admitted. “But the past stays in the past, and it can’t be changed. So it’s a pain I deserve.”

Star held out a hand to Ink, smiling. “Welp, that’s all for today. You can tell your friends we’re done with the bulk of it. And tomorrow we’ll fight for another world.”

“But why?” Ink still couldn’t grasp the meaning behind Star’s behavior. Why did he destroy some of the worlds and forced the Creators to resurrect them? Why did he only tamper with some of them slightly, and why did he want to fight for others?

“You still don’t get it?” Star shook his head in disappointment. “Then think about it while you rest and tend to your wounds.”

Star left through a portal, once again cursing its star shape. Ink caught a glimpse of the darkness and the fluffy head of the dog amalgamate on the other side. This meant the black skeleton was planning to spend the night in the basement of the lab. Just when Ink thought that Star valued comfort… As it turned out, he valued solitude more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

Sighing, Ink headed to DreamTale, where a new drama was unfolding. The two brothers failed to share their lives, their feelings, and even their house. Now the twins were screaming, arguing and flinging furniture around — as in, they expressed their “love and affection” for each other in each and every way possible.

“I see that things are going swimmingly?”

He was instantly fixed with two angry glares. One of them stayed angry, but the other softened, and Dream was instantly by Ink’s side, assaulting him with questions.

“Ink! I’m so happy to see you! Is everything okay? How did it go? How’s our Multiverse? Oh! And where did you get injured?” He got right to bandaging the scratches and cracks before the artist could even begin to answer.

“Everything’s probably fine.” Ink found himself unable to admit that he didn’t understand Star’s approach to the problem, nor did he have any idea whether they’d already saved the Multiverse or were only in the process of doing so. “We’re working on it.”

“ _Probably_?” Nightmare picked up on the word choice. The guardian of negativity walked over and stood next to his brother.

Ink gulped, and his eyelights went through a few dozen symbols in a matter of seconds. “We’re still working on it.” He figured that it was best to change the subject as soon as possible. “Hey, maybe we should pay Blue a visit?”

“I’ll pass.” Nightmare opened a portal. “I’ll go check on my pack of demons. I hope you didn’t dust them. Not all of them, at least.” And with those words, he was gone.

Dream and Ink warily opened a portal to UnderSwap and breathed out a sigh of relief: Blue’s world remained untouched. Their friend was prepared to greet his guests with his arms wide open — and the same question on his tongue.

“How did it go?”

Ink sighed and repeated what he’d already told Dream, and soon enough the three guardians were sitting at a table, armed with cups of tea.

“He’s quite… nice.” Ink struggled to find the right word to describe the new Error.

“Nice?” Dream asked in disbelief.

“Really?” Blue seemed to glow with joy.

“Yep. He’s slowly warming up to everything, and sometimes, I swear, he looks as if he’s about to experience real happiness. But so far there’ve been too many things weighing him down, and he’s always so tense, even though he’s trying not to let it show. And also, even though he’s not haphephobic, he too likes to hole up somewhere quiet and secluded. He went to spend the night among the amalgamates again — even though he seemed perfectly content to spend last night on my couch.”

Bue stopped smiling and said something uncharacteristic of him, “Can’t say I’m surprised. We effectively kidnapped him and forced him to help us. It’s not like he has any real reasons to be happy or trust us at the moment.”

“Yeah, and weren’t you planning to put a collar on him?” Ink reminded them. “This would’ve surely brought him _so much joy_.”

His friends had the decency to look embarrassed, and Ink added with nary a hint of mirth, “Should’ve put it on our Error. Stars, it took me until today to realize just how much of an idiot I am and just what I’ve lost.” He sighed.

He thought back to the rage-filled fights with Error — and couldn’t help but compare them to the relatively peaceful battle with Star. When fighting Star, he didn’t feel like his equal. That was a no-brainer, of course: Star had way more experience, and, even though he didn’t look like it, he was a lot older. He was indulgent with Ink — the way one is when dealing with small children.

“Things are different with Star. He’s sort of easier to get along with — but I feel so stupid by comparison.”

“Star? Is that Error’s name?” Dream asked.

“Yes. That’s what our Error named him.” Seeing his friends’ faces twist with fear, the artist hurried to clarify, “Don’t look so scared! I didn’t get it at first either, and I was _very_ confused! Star says that all the residual codes end up saved in the Anti-Void. So we went to visit the Anti-Void, and Star added himself into the code of our Multiverse — or rather, he found Error’s remaining code and talked to him, and _then_ Error added our guest into our world under the name of Star. So that’s his name now. Star’s not amused though, and he called our Error a ‘glitchy bastard’.”

This brought a smile to everyone’s face.

“I hope he decides to stay with us after such a welcome.” Blue’s voice was filled with hope.

“I hope so too,” Ink replied and swallowed around the lump in his throat. If there was ever a chance to exchange Star for the former Error, he would’ve instantly said yes, so he didn’t sound all that confident when agreeing to Blue. Either way, he couldn’t help but have some sympathy for Star’s plight after everything he’d been through.

“Maybe there’s something we could offer him so that he stays?”

“Tacos!” Blue smiled — and instantly wilted under the deadly glares of his friends.

“No more tacos.” Dream warned. “It’ll be very sad if that becomes the reason he runs off.”

“Sorry, Blue, but one more taco party — and our guest will run from us through time and space,” Ink laughed, his mood slightly improved.

Dream and Blue shared an awkward sort of look and both forced fake grins on their faces.

“What did you do?” The artist instantly knew his friends were hiding something.

“It wasn’t us,” Blue said, growing embarrassed. “Sci destroyed the pathway.”

“Sci did _what_?!?!”

Ink instantly teleported to the lab and ran into the room, where the remainders of the machine resided. One look at the wreckage — and he held his head in his hands.

“How is Star going to get back now?”

Ink had no answer to that question. He was also too weary to seek out Sci and kick his butt for doing something so incredibly stupid. So the guardian headed straight to the secret lab. He had to tell Star about the portal. Sure, he might get angry and hate them for this, but he deserved to know the truth.

He found the new Error the moment he exited the elevator. Star was lying on the floor, and the amalgamates were all over him, like a bunch of cats. And if — like cats — the amalgamates picked the places that ached to lie on, then Star was hurting all over.

_He lost his entire Multiverse. He lost everyone he’d ever known. He lived among copies of his friends and loved ones for ages, and he found his place only as a soulless guide through pitch darkness._

Ink didn’t have a soul, but his chest ached. “It hurts, huh?”

“That’s plagiarism, ink stain,” Star replied and reluctantly got up, shoving the disgruntled amalgamates off him. “What did you want?”

Ink took a deep breath and… found himself unable to say it. He kept shifting in place awkwardly as he tried to gather the courage.

Star kept his stare level as he waited, and when the answer didn’t come, he clicked his tongue and said, “If it’s about the portal to Zero Infinity, then I already saw what happened. Your brainiac decided to break it. To be honest, that was really stupid of him. You could use it to escape if things go south.” His voice had no bite to it, but he did sound disappointed by the act of stupidity.

Ink was surprised by the reaction. “You aren’t angry?”

“Am I supposed to be?” Star asked, confused.

“But you can’t get home without it!”

“I can.” The black skeleton said, surprising him further. “Should I get rid of the tether that keeps me connected to your Multiverse — the one that Error made for me — and Zero Infinity will get me back. But as long as the tether remains, I’ll be able to stay.”

Once Ink processed what he’d been told, he sighed in relief. “Allow me to apologize for my friends’ idiocy.”

“You’re forgiven. Is that all? Or was there something else that you want?”

“Actually, I wanted to take you to my couch or my guest room. Floor doesn’t make for a good bed, even when you share it with amalgamates.”

Star looked at the creatures as lonesome as he was and figured he could always join their ranks later, but for now he was going to enjoy the luxury of a soft bed.

This time he allowed Ink to lead him to the guest room, and he very nearly moaned in delight once he was able to stretch out on top of the bed. He was asleep in a matter of moments — or maybe he once again pretended he was to avoid any further conversation.

Ink really needed to get some rest too, but his head was too crowded with thoughts that kept him awake and tossing and turning in his bed.

Yes, he missed Error, and he truly wished his life hadn’t ended the way it did. He wished they could’ve had all the things they never did: friendship, trust, mutual understanding…

Star… Ink knew that earning his trust would be just as hard as earning Error’s. Even though the black skeleton seemed more sociable, he still refused to open up. Yes, he was ready to lecture, scold, demand, respond and participate — but all of that seemed to be a wall intended to hide the real him.

“What are you really like, Error of the star Multiverse? He used to be friends with Ink. Or was there something more between them?” The guardian took a sip of pink and blushed. “Perhaps, that’s something I could use to keep you here?”

The thought alone made him take a gulp of disgust and slam his head against a wall.

Ink woke up feeling weary and was astonished to find Star taking over the kitchen duty.

“Good mor…” Star turned around, saw how awful Ink looked and changed the greeting to, “Not-so-good morning. Did you spend half the night chased by Nightmare or something?”

“No.” Ink almost dislocated his jaw with a yawn. “I can torture myself just fine on my own. What’s for breakfast?”

As it turned out, Star could make a mean… pudding.

“Moon pudding?”

“Sadly, just the regular one — but tasty nonetheless.” A tiny smile graced the black skeleton’s face. “We had a tradition. Once a year we would meet up on the moon and eat pudding together with the rabbit.”

“So, something like a New Year?”

“Yes, but with shooting stars instead of fireworks, and we watched the worlds align instead of counting down until midnight.”

Ink smiled. He decided against saying he would’ve loved to see it with his own eyes. If he voiced it, he would’ve only once again reminded Star about the death of his Multiverse. Star was talking about it all the time already — and hurting himself in the process.

However, Ink couldn’t help but wonder who Star surrounded himself with back when he was a destroyer. Apparently, unlike Error, he wasn’t an outsider and didn’t avoid parties — or maybe he did, but someone kept dragging him to them — perhaps, even literally.

“What’s so funny?” Star asked, watching Ink’s attempts to hide his giggling.

“I just imagined you being dragged to a party — literally.”

All of the sudden Star shared the sentiment, replying with a smile of his own, “You’re almost spot on. That’s how they used to get me to participate. Though there was that one guy, who figured that — since negotiations didn’t work — a good hit to the skull would solve all the problems. Though after that one incident, he had it drilled into him that I’m supposed to arrive at the parties alive, healthy and conscious.”

“It’s good when there’s something to remember.”

“It’s too bad when memories are the only thing that’s left.” The smile slipped off Star’s face.

It was time for them to get to work, so they teleported to one of the worlds from Star’s final stack.

“Have you figured out why we’re doing all of this yet?”

Ink slapped himself in the head with the paintbrush. He’d been so busy thinking about other, absolutely unimportant things, that he forgot to brainstorm ideas for the actually important one.

“Star fish memory, huh?” Star smiled again. There was quite a distance between them, but Ink thought he saw some sort of a glint in the destroyer’s eyes. He wished he could come closer to find out what it was — but the battle for another world had already been set in motion, so the only way he could get closer was by dancing out of the way of the attacks.

It was easier this time. The guardian already knew a lot of Star’s moves and knew how to counter them. Star, on the other hand, knew how to deal with Ink from the start. He must’ve met and fought many of Ink’s alternates over the years. So, unlike Ink, who was going all out, Star was holding back, still hiding a few aces up his sleeve.

One of these aces turned out to be extremely vexing.

When Ink managed to get close enough to engage in close combat, Error suddenly fell — not to the ground but through a portal — and dropped out of another portal right on top of Ink. He attacked from behind, tied him up with strings and left him hanging.

“Sadly, you’ve lost this world, Ink.”

A moment later the universe they were fighting for was gone. All of its residents and their hopes turned to code and dust.

Star threw Ink into the Anti-Void, following close behind.

“Are you angry? Did you want to win? Do you want that world to live?”

“Yes!” Ink twisted out of the strings and readied his paintbrush for an attack.

“But you still don’t know why we’re doing this. You still don’t get why your Error destroyed some of the worlds without fanfare, wounded others and fought for the rest! Think, Ink. Take a guess!”

Red magic still had its hold on Ink, and it took him a moment to dilute it with less aggressive colours.

“I don’t know. I thought this was one of his many quirks. Now I know that I was wrong — but I still have no idea why any of this is necessary!”

“Think, Ink.” Star teleported into the next world and got down to destroying it right away, encouraging the guardian to act faster, more aggressively. “You have to make _Them_ believe that this world has the right to exist! Be stronger than me! Believe in yourself above anyone else — and then you’re going to win!”

This fight was way more fierce than the previous one. The artist even managed to bind Star’s arm with ink and swung his brush at the restrained enemy — only to blink in surprise, when his attack hit nothing. He stared wide-eyed at the black arm… that remained inside the inky bindings while its owner made his escape.

 _Did he just rip his arm off?_ The guardian thought, terrified. There weren’t any traces of blood though. It looked as if the limb simply fell off.

“What’s the holdup?” came from behind him, and a strong kick sent Ink flying.

He fell, pulled himself up to his feet and turned to stare at Star in horror. Meanwhile, the black skeleton picked up his arm and put it back into the socket. The limb reconnected with a quiet click, and the fingers that were dead a moment ago, came alive and moved.

“ _How?_ ”

That’s when Star realized that it wasn’t a blow that made Ink freeze. He followed the other’s bewildered stare and looked at his freshly reattached limb. “What’s wrong?”

“Your arm came off,” was the only thing the guardian managed to force out.

Star slapped himself in the forehead and cursed under his breath. “Great. Not only do the skeletons in your cluster breathe and have beating souls, but you can’t painlessly disconnect your bones either. Wild!”

The artist would’ve loved to argue that it’s Star’s anomalously silent soul and detachable arms that he found wild — but this wasn’t the time to get distracted. Star’s anomalies were just an extra ace up his sleeve.

“So if I were to wrap you head to toe in ink, you’ll just fall apart and… spill out in pieces…” The gory mental image made Ink sick. He threw up.

“You’re one leaky inkwell, Ink,” Star laughed. “And to answer your question… Yes, I could absolutely do tha—”

“No!” Ink held his paintbrush in front of him, as if it could save him from his overactive imagination. “Never do that! Ever!”

Star took one look at the guardian’s greenish-blue face and smirked, saying, “Then don’t give me a reason to do that — or your night terrors will be Nightmare’s favorite treat.”

The poor victim on his own overactive imagination hurled yet again — and almost missed an attack flying towards him. The ink he’d coughed up was swiftly repurposed into a shield. The artist counterattacked before Star had a chance to do anything about it — and finally carved out a victory.

He tackled the black skeleton to the ground, pinned his arms above his head and made himself comfortable as he straddled his opponent. “Victory is mine!”

Star looked extremely surprised and embarrassed at the same time. It took Ink a moment or two to realize just how ambiguous their current position was.

“Oh. Sorry.” The guardian of the AUs laughed and grew the tiniest bit embarrassed himself. “But I won’t get off you until you admit that I won this time. This world will live!”

“It will,” the black skeleton confirmed. “Now get off me.”

Ink leaped off him, as if burned, and took a few steps back to give Star some space while he collected himself and caught his breath.

“Shall we fight for another world?” Ink asked.

“Have you figured out why we're doing all of this yet?”

Ink pondered it once again and found himself thinking back to the destroyer’s words: _You have to make_ Them _believe that this world has the right to exist!_

“Them”? Who were “They”?

The realization struck him like a lighting, making him lurch.

“I can see that you’re on your way to understanding your Multiverse, guardian. So, are you ready to give your answer?”

Ink hesitated. He wasn’t ready to voice these simple words — to admit how little free will his Multiverse had and how much it depended on a third party. But he had to do this.

“The Creators.” It hurt to say this. The Ones who allowed him to live. The Ones who gave him the paint. The Ones who relentlessly created new worlds and turned to him for inspiration. Did They really…? “They want to see us fight over the worlds’ existence?”

Star nodded, satisfied.

“You’ve finally understood a part of the truth. That’s right. The Creators often require a confirmation that a certain world deserves to live. And we,” the destroyer pointed at himself, then at Ink, “act as weights at the scales of Their judgement. If you win, the world prospers and keeps developing. If I win, the world perishes and becomes forgotten.

“However, it’s only a part of the whole picture. You still haven’t answered why some of the worlds need to be wounded and others have to be destroyed without a fight. And I’m still waiting for your answers.”

However, instead of actually waiting, he opened a portal to another universe and gestured towards it, inviting Ink through.

“It seems like you think better while in the heat of a battle.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: references to past suicide.
> 
> Special thanks to [Glizi Sweet](https://twitter.com/GliziSweet) and [Neutralcybertrn](https://twitter.com/Neutralcybertrn) for beta-reading this chapter!

This time they both ended up so worn out that it was impossible to determine the winner. Ink was lying on the ground among a sea of bone attacks, two of which pierced clean through his ribs. Meanwhile Star was trying to break out of an impenetrable inky cocoon that Ink had trapped him in.

“It’s a draw!” Ink declared and dispelled the inks, allowing the grimy destroyer to flop onto the ground.

“Agreed.” Star struggled to an upright position and went to reclaim a piece of his foot that had been flung away earlier in the fight along with the sneaker.

Impassive, Ink watched the black skeleton put the bones back into their proper place. This quirk of Star’s no longer scared him.

He got up as well, visibly struggling with such a simple action, and asked, “Are we done for today?”

“Are you ready to answer the remaining questions?”

“Whether I am or not, we’re in no condition to keep this going.”

Star smiled and nodded. While he was busy straightening his clothes, Ink came over and held out his hand.

“Let’s go home,” the artist’s voice was filled with hope and warmth.

The destroyer shivered. He knew this could all be an attempt to manipulate him, and he didn’t want to fall for it — yet he took the unexpectedly warm white-boned hand and didn’t resist, when he was pulled through the Ink’s portal.

“Even if only for a while, I’m ready to consider your house mine.”

Ink was so overjoyed by this answer, he went all out with the yellow paint. “Believe me or not, but people rarely stay at my place overnight — and it’s even rarer that anyone agrees to put up with my soullessness. So I’m genuinely happy to share my loneliness with you.”

There was something hidden behind these words — something that Star found unnerving. “Perhaps, it’s best not to treat one loneliness with another? Don’t you know the rule of sum?”

“Hah! I do believe that they are capable of annihilating each other.”

And there they were, back at the guardian’s house again. First they healed each other’s wounds, then settled down to drink tea and coffee and munch on chocolate from ChocoTale.

When Star asked about ChocoTale, Ink burst out laughing. The artist told the story of the time the candy universe was being destroyed through alternative means. After all, pretty much everything and everyone was edible there. “Error tried to do that once. When I found him, he’d already eaten too much candy, and I had to get him to a doctor. He had no idea half the world’s population was watching him and betting on how long he’d last. Poor guy.”

Star barely managed to keep from smiling, and Ink caught a glimpse of the other’s eyelights changing their shape — if only for a moment. Or did he imagine it?

“You won’t mind if Dream and Blue join us tomorrow, right? After all, they’ve always helped me keep the Multiverse safe.”

The destroyer shrugged, unsure. He wasn’t eager to talk to more people, and he didn’t like Dream and Blue all that much — not these ones at least. “As long as they won’t try to force me to stay in your Multiverse, it should be fine. But, Ink, keep in mind, that if I’m gonna be fighting three people, I won’t hold back anymore.”

Ink could only sigh. He’d known this whole time that Star was incredibly powerful and had been putting extra effort into not injuring him too much. “Okay. I’m actually kinda curious just how much stronger I’d need to get to catch up to you.”

Star merely extinguished his eyelights and confessed, “I didn’t get a chance to ‘take a step beyond’, and that’s why I was able to become a pathlighter. And while I can’t claim I was the strongest among people like myself, I was definitely far from the weakest.

“You know, once you begin living in Zero Infinity — once you accept it, and it accepts you — you change and evolve in a way that’s different from how it happened to you in your home Multiverse. So I doubt you’d ever be able to catch up to me. But,” he paused for a nervous sip of coffee, “I've accepted the conditions of your Multiverse, and it accepted me — which means I’m bound by its rules and limitations. I think the only thing you’ll actually have trouble with is my combat experience.”

“Did you have to fight often while you lived there?”

“It happened sometimes. For the most part, the residents of Zero Infinity don’t care about your life and problems, unless it’s their life’s purpose. But newbies tend to be hotheaded.”

“There’s no way you learned everything by fighting them...”

“No, I did not.” Star frowned. “Even within Zero Infinity there are monsters who begin to think that they have the right to choose for others — or those who simply chose the wrong path to follow.

“I once saw my alternate version destroy the residents of an entire cluster. I still shudder whenever I see butterflies. In spite of his glamorous nickname, Error Butterfly had become a scourge of a certain distant corner of the vast darkness. Only the strongest survived — and I did too, which is nothing short of a miracle.”

Ink imagined a space filled with alternates of Error — each one weirder than the last — and was excited by the very idea of it at first. Then he remembered the black skeleton’s proclivities and had to take a sip of fear. At the mention of a monster capable of killing the strongest residents of that awful place, Ink lost any desire to think at all. He silently praised his luck for bringing Star his way — and not someone else.

The following morning Ink started the day by gathering the other guardians, and soon they stood together before the black skeleton.

“Did Ink tell you what we’re doing and why?”

He got a discordant chorus of voices in response. Dream was expressing his outrage at the cruelty of the Creators. Blue was hoping for the best and defended Them. Ink had already made his peace with the recent discovery and was ready to keep on living, regardless of the weight of the newfound facts.

“And did he tell you that I’m still waiting for the rest of the answers?”

“I forgot.” Ink scratched the back of his head. “Star asked me why our Error destroyed some of the worlds, fought us for others, and only wounded the rest instead of fighting us or razing them to the ground. The thing is, Star’s been doing the exact same thing — and I can tell that it’s helping: the worlds are becoming healthier, better-crafted and stronger. The ones that survive the pressing, that is.”

A discussion ensued, with the guardians putting forward the wildest theories and talking them over among themselves. Star stayed out of it, listening to the Star Team’s brainstorming session with a modicum of surprise. He didn’t see the point in interfering yet, since they hadn’t voiced the correct answer yet — not the one that was correct within this Multiverse, at least.

“We have an idea!” Ink said, once he and his friends finally managed to settle on one.

“Well?” Star crossed his arms, waiting for him to continue.

“You said that the Creators decide whether a world gets to live or die, based on our victories, right?”

“Yes, this part you did figure out.”

“So, here’s what we were thinking… Perhaps, our influence isn’t only limited to that. I mean, maybe it’s not limited to solely destruction or creation. It seems like there’s a catch there somewhere. For example, I,” he pointed at himself, “inspire the Creators to make new worlds. And whenever I appear inside existing ones, the Creators take a look at them and, perhaps, add new details or, maybe, pay attention to them in some other way. There were times when I discovered abandoned worlds, yet after I visited them, they stopped being abandoned.”

“You’re thinking in the right direction. Keep at it, Ink.”

Encouraged, the guardian went on. “But whenever Error visited the worlds, he brought them to ruin. Only it didn’t work the same way it did for me, because after his departure the worlds didn’t die. Even when I failed to come to the rescue in time, the worlds didn’t fall to ruin. Moreover, whenever I returned to those worlds later, I could see that they were mended — and sometimes even better developed than before. And I think that, just like me, Error forced the Creators to pay attention to the worlds he visited. So whenever he started to destroy a world, its Creator, perhaps, revised Their creation, seeked out the mistakes and corrected them. Am I right?”

Ink’s answer was met with applause.

“It seems like the inky brain finally learned to think. Bravo, Ink. You got it all right. In this Multiverse Error’s job is to seek out flaws and weaknesses. He basically forced the Creators to return to Their worlds and look at them with fresh eyes. That’s why he wounded the worlds. And now, tell me, Ink, why did he destroy some of them completely?”

A smile slipped onto his face unbidden. Star was extremely glad to see the guardians work together to solve this one. That’s the way it used to work back in his Multiverse as well: Ink surrounded himself with people and forced them to work for the good of the universes. Whether it was with kicks or with persuasion — but he got even the most stubborn of the Multiverse’s inhabitants to participate.

His Multiverse preached balance. Everyone knew their place in its workings — and everyone respected each other’s role. Many of them grew close to each other over time, and even Error wasn’t an outsider despite his best attempts to stay aloof.

_ Stars, so why is it that, in spite of it all, my home and everyone I knew became less than a speck of stardust — less than nothing? Why did a world as perfect as mine turn to nothing? _ Star sighed and slapped himself in the forehead.  _ Digging up the past again, are you? When will you learn to focus on the future? Time to stop burying your head in the sand, you damn ostrich. _

By the time Star managed to brush aside his memories, the guardians were done brainstorming and had settled on a single idea.

“The worlds you’ve destroyed... Most of them came back. Can’t say for sure, whether anything about them truly changed — but they’ve become sort of bigger. They seem to have gotten more details. That’s why we think that, whenever Error destroyed the worlds, he forced the Creators to take a critical look at Their idea and either rework and finalize it, or erase it.”

Once again, the answer was met with applause.

“Yes, all in all, you’re right.” Star nodded. “Error really did work for the Creators in that manner.”

“Poor thing.” Blue teared up a little. “So  _ that’s _ what pushed him over the edge. He wanted to destroy every world, after all. Perhaps, he started to realize the truth, and that’s what pushed him over the edge.”

Star shrugged. “Perhaps. Most Errors don’t understand their purpose fully, so they end up being highly dangerous psychopaths with a simple viral program to their actions: destruction — like kids that consider ripping heads off dolls a fun activity.

“Then come maturity and realizations — and that’s when a lot of them end up troubled.” Star frowned. “It’s tough to rise up from the depths of insanity; it’s a torture to lose the pillars you’ve always stood upon; and it seems impossible to keep holding on. Not all of them survive. Your Error wasn’t strong enough. That’s a shame.”

“No.” Ink shook his head with a heavy sigh. “It’s us who weren’t strong enough to hold on to him. It’s us who should be ashamed.”

They stood there, facing each other — three white skeletons who had to protect the worlds, and the black one who had to destroy them — all filled with grief and regrets.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Star waved his hands, “enough with the dramatics. Now that you fully understand what your task is, you fully realize your duty. Let’s get into a world and see who ends up victorious. What will win: my experience or your desire to protect the defenseless universe?”

He wasn’t lying when he warned Ink about being powerful. He held his ground against the three of them with the ease of an experienced fighter. Blue was sent flying enough to make one wonder why he hadn’t grown wings by now. Dream didn’t believe Star was as strong as he claimed at first, which earned him a princess dress made out of strings, and the keeper of positivity spent a while airborne, flying over the battlefield like a fairy godmother, until Star finally let him go, and he flopped to the ground from high above. That’s when he finally believed that Star meant business, and shot the star-shaped shield full of golden arrows.

“Wimps,” Star called them as he watched their pitiful attempts to stop him. “At this rate, this world is doomed. Don’t be afraid to experiment. Your experience and strength have nothing on mine. But you have your wit, cunning and a battlefield neither of us know. Try to use that to your advantage.”

After receiving the hint, the guardians finally showed restraint in the volume of their attacks, instead making their approach more unexpected.

Ink actually hid behind a shield all of a sudden as he waited for… something — and the extremely sly expression on his face didn’t help the general image he was painting.

And soon Star realized why.

Dream found a moment and ran up to Star, getting into striking distance. He swung his staff, aiming to dislocate the black skeleton’s shoulder and weaken him for a while that way. What he didn’t expect was that the arm he hit would come clean off…

There was a moment of confusion, then Dream looked at Star, who was applying pressure to the “wound” with his remaining hand, and started to apologize for the pain he’d caused. He picked up the arm, intending to ask Ink to heal it back into place as quickly as possible — but all of a sudden the limb started to move and even grabbed onto Dream in the best traditions of horror movies. Dream, who hadn’t expected that in the slightest, screamed like a princess and passed out. Blue instantly rushed to his fallen comrade’s side, giving the twitching limb a wide berth.

Ink guffawed. Star did too. He laughed — laughed for the first time since entering this world — and his laugh was loud, melodious and real.

“Oh!” Blue was the first one to notice. “Your eyelights are shaped like stars too!”

“Really?” Ink instantly left the cover of the shield and ran up to the black skeleton to look into his eye-sockets. There, he saw two white stars in place of the other’s usual round eyelighs.

“Get away from me!” Star instantly stepped away from the intruders of his personal bubble. He blinked the stars away, and they were replaced with regular circles. “This doesn’t happen often — only in moments of joy.”

“Then we need to make sure that there’s more joy to be had,” Ink said, surprising even himself. “The starry eyes suit you. … Um… And what happened to our princess?”

Dream kept mumbling something about walking dead and didn’t look like he was coming to his senses any time soon.

“Well, I think we’re going to need a break,” Blue admitted and watched with excitement of an explorer as Star put his arm back into place. “I’m assuming this is normal?”

“Yes. It took Ink by surprise as well. My physiology allows every bone to exist for a long while without magic feeding into it — as long as it’s not broken. Here, look,” he said, easily detached his hand and tossed it to the confused Blue.

The kid caught it, paled, gulped but didn’t freak out. He carefully examined the place the bones were supposed to be connected at. “Wowie! It’s such a perk in battles! I wish I could do this too!”

“Sorry, kid, but that’s not something you can learn. You have to be born with it.”

Ink was sitting next to them and enjoying their little chat. He wanted Star and his friends to grow closer. Perhaps, if Star found friends in this Multiverse, he wouldn’t want to leave.

Once Dream came back to his senses, it turned out that he was in no condition to continue fighting. The poor guy headed to Sci’s to recover. Still, the rest of the battle was pretty lively even with only two out of three of the guardians present. Star was still holding back despite promising to go all out though.

The fate of the world was left up to its Creator, as they ended up with a draw again. It’s just that Star didn’t expect the goody-two-shoes Blue to sneak up on him from behind and point a sharp bone at his neck. The destroyer didn’t enjoy being a hostage, but he could appreciate the idea. It took him a moment to get out of that predicament, and by the time he did, he ended up under a barrage of Ink’s attacks, which took quite a bit of work to deal with as well.

Eventually, all three of them stumbled out into the Anti-Void.

“Wowie!” screamed the youngest guardian in excitement. “I loved it.”

“Just don’t forget that this isn’t a game, and a whole world will be paying the price for our loss,” Ink said, bringing him down to earth.

Star yawned. He’d long since realized that the worlds that weren’t a part of the “golden hundred” — or whatever it was that they had here — were a dime a dozen. They were created in dozens and perished in hundreds even without the destroyer’s involvement. So he learned not to feel sorry for them. Feeling sorry for these worlds, having regrets and working to fix them were all the responsibilities of the Creators who left Their creations unfinished for some unknowable reasons. If They didn’t make the world interesting enough, it was on Them. Such worlds were destined to fall into obscurity sooner or later — and Star figured that dealing with them sooner and quicker was better than letting it get slow and painful. Besides, what if — after watching the destroyer and the guardian fight — the Creator started working on Their world again and finished it after all?

Either way, it was neither his job nor the guardians’. They were only the tools used in decision-making — in this Multiverse, at least.

Star was surprised when he opened a portal and saw not the lab with amalgamates but Ink’s house. It wasn’t conscious, but he was drawn to that place. He hesitated — and felt a nudge from behind.

“Quit stalling. You're not the only one who’s tired here. If you don’t mind, let’s grab some food at Grillby’s in one of the worlds. Or a Muffet’s, if you’re in a mood for something sweet.”

Dream and Blue silently watched the guardian push the destroyer through the portal, all the while promising him treats. They shared a look and chose not to comment on it. If Ink had better luck with taming this Error, then they were going to let him do just that — as long as it didn’t make Star run from him back into Zero Infinity.

After all, that was still a possibility, and the guardians shuddered at the thought of having to once again deal with an unsolvable Multiversal problem, exhausting themselves in attempts to save it and waiting for the slow and painful death.

They had already dropped the idea of forcing the destroyer to stay. He’d made it clear he could beat them with his eyes closed. So they placed all their hope into Ink, who managed to interact with Star and get a positive response out of him. To a random onlooker those two would’ve looked like old friends.

Star didn’t stay awake long enough to drink the cocoa. He’d grown unused to living by the rules of a Multiverse and was now constantly surprised by the little things he was deprived of in Zero Infinity. Food, for example. The residents of Zero Infinity had no need for it. Exhaustion. He’d forgotten the meaning of that word while he was a pathlighter. Sleep. It was rare that he slept, and it only happened inside Multiverses — and it was even rarer that he saw dreams. Now, however, he had to set at least eight out of twenty four hours for sleeping. He also had dreams every single time, and all of those dreams had the same thing at their core.

This one wasn’t an exception.

He was back at the familiar spot — and it was empty again. This time even the voice was gone. As was most of the Multiverse. It was falling apart. It was dying. Their Multiverse was ceasing to exist.

“Why are you showing me this?”

No answer.

“Ink?”

He wasn’t there anymore. No one was — only Error, the encroaching darkness and the dying Multiverse. The ground started to crumble under his feet. The stars were going out one by one. The darkness kept getting closer.

“It’s time to let go. Goodbye, Error.”

Then the black skeleton finds himself in pitch darkness. Alone. Empty. But still able to fight. He sees the light of a pathlighter and runs towards it. … No. It’s not a lantern. It’s an open door. He’s invited to come inside, and he’s allowed to stay.

“Welcome home, Star.”

Star opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He could clearly remember falling asleep at the table — which meant that Ink had carried him to the guest room. He was a good guy, that Ink, his soullessness notwithstanding.

Star reached into his pocket, pulling out the doll that had been by his side throughout his whole journey inside Zero Infinity, and considered his decision. He still had his doubts: Everything seemed too good to be true. Even the ghost of Ink from his dreams pretty much asked him to stay. Heck, everyone was asking him to stay — even the local Error.

That psycho explicitly and forcefully erased himself out of the system. And he didn’t even ask — he just went and added Star into the code of the Multiverse, which settled him into a new place and kept Zero Infinity from reclaiming him. And now this Multiverse’s Error could rest in peace. Perhaps, for him, that was for the best.

“But what would be best for me?”

Time was slipping through his fingers. He had to make his choice. Should he stay or should he go? If he was staying, he needed to state it outright. All things considered, were the guardians human, they would’ve gone gray from the stress by now. If he was leaving, he needed to wrap things up instead of giving the people of this Multiverse false hope. Then leave and shove some newbie destroyer into this Multiverse and let him settle in.

In this comfy place.

With these kind guardians.

Perhaps, in this very room.

Star put the doll on the bedside table.

“It’s been a while since I had to fight this much. Wouldn’t want to lose or rip you,” he said to the doll, then stretched and lied back down. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. After a little consideration, he covered it with a pattern of glittering strings. They glimmered like stars, making this place feel like home. “I’m staying.”

And he fell back asleep.

Come morning, Ink was all twitchy, as if he’d literally been forced to sit on pins and needles. In reality, he had the time to discuss the future with his friends, and they imposed on him that he had to prevent Star from leaving at any cost. Otherwise… They didn’t want to think of “otherwise”. They’d already seen that “otherwise”.

Ink spent a long time pondering the ways he could make Star stay, but all of his ideas were stupid — even the last one to come to his mind.

Judging by the black skeleton’s vague implications, he and the Ink of his home Multiverse were not only friends, but there was something more intimate between them as well. And so, the guardian figured that he could try and replace that Ink inside this Error’s heart. That would just require him to drink a lot of pink and do his best not to think about what he was doing.

His heart wasn’t in it though. He wanted to nurture friendship, trust, a strong bond with Star — not join him in bed as consolation — but if this was going to be the thing that saved everyone, then so be it.

When Ink heard the door of the guest room click closed, he took a gulp out of the pink vial and waited.

When Star came downstairs, he didn’t immediately realize that something was wrong with the guardian. He only guessed what was going on once the artist hopped to his feet and slipped into Star’s personal space.

Ink stood before him and fixed him with a look of steady heart-shaped eyelights. Swiftly, as if he was scared he’d reconsider, the artist flung himself on the black skeleton, pressed close and kissed him with all the passion he was capable of.

But got no response.

He pulled away and was met with a disapproving stare.

“Ink, get away from me,” Error requested, his voice rough.

“You don’t want it?”

“I don’t want to be tied to this Multiverse in such a manner. Even you should be aware of how despicable your behavior is.”

“I just…”

“...Thought you could force me to stay if you whored yourself out.”

Ink remained silent. He quietly took a couple of steps back from the black skeleton and neutralized the effects of the pink paint. Then he drank shame and blushed. “I’m sorry, Star. I love my Multiverse, and I want it to prosper. You’re right. What I did was despicable — both back when I refused to understand my Error, and now, when I tried to manipulate you. I never wanted this. I want to be your friend, your partner. I want to keep getting to know you. And what I did just now… I’m sorry.”

The disapproval in Star’s gaze was slowly replaced with sadness. “It’s fine. I’m not angry. Heh. Back in my Multiverse, Ink too could sometimes do something incredibly stupid at times, which left him unable to look anyone in the eye for a while.”

“Was he soulless too?” The artist hadn’t asked about his alternate self from Star’s Multiverse before, and he was now burning with curiosity.

“Yes.” Error smiled. “And he too had a replacement for emotions.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I do.” The warm smile never left Star’s face. “Every time I saw someone who looked like him, I couldn’t help but hope that it  _ was _ him, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. My Ink is dead, and so is my Multiverse.”

“I can sympathize. Even though I don’t have a soul, sometimes I get very sad when I find myself in Outertale or whenever I eat the chocolate he liked. I knew so little about him, and I regret it now. You were right when you said I never would’ve been able to understand Error — because I never tried to find out more about him. Even after he died, I never tried to figure out what he was like and focused only on his actions.”

“We realize our mistakes only once we’ve already made them — only when it’s too late to make things right.”

“Sadly.”

“Ink?”

“Hm?”

“I’m staying.”

The white skeleton needed a few seconds to grasp what he’d been told — and a couple more to open the yellow vial with shaking hands. He took quite a swig out of it, and for a while he turned into a hurricane of joy.

Star stoically put up with the brunt of the guardian’s happiness as he waited for the other’s inarticulate shouting to turn back into intelligible speech.

“Is this for real? Are you really staying?” Ink still couldn’t believe his luck.

“Yes. This isn’t a decision I make lightly,” Star confessed. “But everything came together so well: You dragged me out of Zero Infinity. Your Error added me to the Multiverse in his place and gave me a new name. I can have a fresh start now. But…”

“What’s bugging you?” Ink was standing really close to the person he already considered a friend, but he had no idea how to help. He didn’t dare hug the other — especially not after his recent stunt.

“Do you really think I deserve to stay with you and live as your Error?”

“No.” Ink snorted and smiled. “I think that you deserve to stay and live as yourself. I’ll never be the Ink you lost. The people here will never be the ones you knew. You will never be the Error who died. You will always be you. I’m only asking you to give me a chance to become your friend, and I hope you can forgive us for our attempts to manipulate you and support our Multiverse.”

“Sounds like a marriage proposal,” Star joked, enjoying the way the guardian blushed in response.

“Partners?”

Error firmly shook the offered hand.

“Partners.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note from the original author:**
> 
> Star’s story is over. I hope you liked it and you’re ready for the next story, featuring another character. In the next story Zero Infinity will be described in more detail, and you’ll learn some of its secrets.


End file.
